Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany) (7 page)

“Sidney. Good to hear from you at last. You found the book?” Dag spoke
into his black cell phone while waving away the cigar smoke coming from two of
the three seats occupied by the hulking dark vampires in front of him. He made
an effort not to cough. The squeal of their leathers as they crossed and
uncrossed their gangly arms and legs annoyed him. His eyes were irritated but
he couldn’t let on. That would have shown weakness.

“No, sir. I did not,” came the voice on the other end of the line.

Dag sat up and immediately the front row did as well. All three sets of
size eighteen shoes slammed onto the concrete floor in unison. It felt like a
small earthquake. Dag’s eyes were unwillingly drawn to the hole the size of a
silver dollar that had been cut from one shoe belonging to the vamp in the
middle, revealing a battered big toe with a black curling toenail extending out
from the flesh like the horn on a ram.

“So where the hell is it?” Dag demanded.

“He says he sold it.”

“Well, ask him again, and this time, make sure he understands he’ll lose
a body part.”

There was silence. Dag knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I…I already did that, sir.”

“Well then kill his wife, in front of him.”

“Did that, too.”

“His child then!”

“Yes, and their pet dog before the boy.”

“Fuck me.” Dag wanted to kill someone. He eyed all three of his comrades,
very slowly. They stared back at him, and only the one with the toe problem
squirmed, moving back and forth and scratching his ankle. Dag took a deep
breath and then let it out. No sense getting upset over a lowly bookstore owner
and his family.

“Sir?” Sidney squawked on the line.

“I’m thinking, damn you. This will cost you, Sidney.”

Dag could hear water running and realized it was the sound of someone
peeing in his pants. No doubt Sidney had been smart enough to call his paramour
first, telling her to disappear before he made this call. Dag would find her,
if he had to.

“Sir, I think I have a way to find out who bought the book. He uses a
book selling service online. I’ll have to get the information from the company
who actually deposited the funds in his account. Take me, oh, maybe a couple of
days, tops.” Sidney’s words were wavering. Dag heard the heart pounding in the
man’s mortal chest.

“
One
day. You have only one,
then I come and eat you, and everyone you know.” Dag flipped his phone shut
with a snap of the wrist.

Two of the onlookers stared into the eyes of the third dark vampire. Did
they think he was so stupid he didn’t know that the third dark vamp was
Sidney’s halfling son? A vampire/human son of the man he’d just threatened to torture
and destroy? They scooted their chairs away from the young vamp, and Dag smiled.

There would be time enough for killing, getting even. He had an errand he
wanted them to run first.

Paulo watched Lucius climb the wooden steps to the white gingerbread
house on Johnson Street. At least that’s what Lucius had called it. Paolo
agreed that the ornate Victorian trim did look like frosting on a wedding cake.
In San Francisco they called them Painted Ladies. Here in Healdsburg they were
sparkling jewels of a bygone era. Summerhouses for the San Francisco elite
during the latter part of the 1800’s.

A young, beautiful witch with long flaxen curls, about Lucius’s age,
greeted him at the door with a plastic jack-o-lantern and deposited a healthy
handful of candy into the brown shopping bag he had colored at school on
Friday. And she gave him a smile that Paolo knew Lucius could not appreciate just
yet.

Paolo saw the Jett brothers leaning against a Jeep, whispering to each
other. He nodded to them, but didn’t get a response. He knew they preferred a
racier detail than watching a lone mortal child trick-or-treating with his
vampire father. It wasn’t personal. It was just boring.

He thought he might release them early to go do whatever it was that they
did at night. They weren’t celibate, and were known to love women, yet he
wondered how much sex, blood, beer and pool they could consume in one evening
if they had the night off.

Or, maybe they never had the night off. Paolo had never asked Marcus what
the arrangement was.

Lucius had squeezed through an overgrown hedge in front of a dark house
next door.

“Hey there, Lucius. Light’s not on. That
means…”

The front door swung open and a tall, dark female vamp stood in the
candlelight of her front room. Heavy blackout curtains were draped over the
windows, which had made it appear that no one was home, or that they didn’t
wish to be disturbed.

Paolo watched the Jett brothers whip to attention and trace right up on
the porch to stand guard next to the boy.

She looked them over like they were two enormous pieces of black
licorice. Their leather pants showed bulging muscles, and no doubt they had a
wild man-scent that charmed her in that dark way. Paolo didn’t like the
animalistic behavior and hair trigger of the darks. There wasn’t anything human
or soft or familiar about any of them. It was all force and instinct. It was
the part of him as a vamp, although a Golden one, that he despised the most.

“Well, I got me a little boy and his friends. I’ll give the boy some
candy, but you three can come in for a while, if you’ll trust your little
charge to the night,” She said it as she began to unbutton her black dress.

Lucius was staring at her chest with his mouth open. Lionel Jett grabbed
her arm and twisted it behind her, which released her left breast to full
visibility. Even Paolo had to admit it was a thing of beauty. But the Jett boys
were unmoved.

“Save it, Drucilla. We’re correcting the boy’s mistake.”

“You hear that, young prince?” she said to Lucius, as she wiggled against
the Jett bodyguard. “He dares to call you a mistake. I sense a bit of Maya
flowing in your veins. Where, pray tell, is your delicious father?”

Lucius started to turn and point to Paolo, but the brothers shoved the
vamp inside and picked the boy up,
 
instantly transporting him halfway down the block.

Paolo walked quietly down the sidewalk toward them, but when he looked
up, Drucilla stood at the doorjamb and smiled in that way Maya used to, like
she had all the secrets and would use them to destroy you. He was relieved to
discover his dick did not respond. She toodled with her fingers. He could feel
her eyes follow him down the street.

It bothered him for the rest of the evening, how the presence of fearless
dark vamps here in California was infringing on the idyllic life they used to
have. Encounters like these were more frequent. Everyone in their family had
noticed. The darks appeared to be picking a fight, or preparing for war.

He wasn’t afraid of war, since it took a lot to cause his death. But war
always took its toll on the innocent, as it had claimed the lives of the entire
older generation of Monteleones. The mortal women who loved Goldens risked
their lives every day by doing so.

And so did Golden children.

Marcus was in the study when Paolo got home with Lucius. The Jett boys
took off on their Harleys.

“Straight to your room. Go shower, and I’ll come in to read you a story
in a bit,” he said to his son. With the sound of little footsteps attacking the
wooden staircase, Paolo strolled to the open door of the study to consult with
his brother. He closed the door behind him.

“Something wrong, brother?” Marcus said as he frowned and looked up from
his ledger.

“How well do you know the Jett brothers?”

“Almost as well as you. We spent a lot of time together while you were
off in the New World getting yourself serially married.”

A flash of anger overtook Paolo and he let his brother see it.

Marcus got up and embraced him. Paolo held his arms straight at his
sides. “Those were unkind words, and I apologize. I never understood your
decisions, but then, I never spent any time trying to. That’s my fault. Not
yours.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault . I merely sought a different path.” Paolo
stepped back and out of the embrace. He twisted the heavy Monteleone ring he
wore on his right hand, a ring identical to the one his brother wore. “I should
be more used to it. Of course you wouldn’t understand.”

“Not until I saw Anne that night as a mortal female could I fathom how
you could fall for a human woman. But I felt the fating with her that night,
even though I didn’t smell vampiric blood. Even though I hadn’t tasted her,
yet.”

Paolo nodded at the small acknowledgement from Marcus, and turned to examine
the extensive collection of rare books. He thrummed his fingers along the
bulging and withering spines. “The woman I met last night studies vampires, can
you believe that?”

“Well then, good for you. Although I would warn you to be cautious. She
is mortal?”

Paolo nodded. “She thinks they are abominations.”

“Ah. I suppose you’ll go about changing her opinion, then?”

“I’m thinking I won’t tell her anything.”

“Well, that’s your choice. Probably best. No need to breathe a word to
have a pleasurable accommodation, is there?”

Paolo’s nostrils flared. Fire burned in his gut. He normally would have
been overcome with anger, but the thought of seeing her tomorrow kept him
thinking about what she would look like, smell like, taste like. If he had to
lie to have that opportunity over and over again, he knew he would.

I am a wretch. Not worthy of this
noble family’s name.

Marcus came over and stood squarely in front of him. “What in the devil’s
gotten into you, Paolo? You are not yourself.”

Paolo fingered a frayed burgundy book with gold lettering. How many of
these books had his mortal father read? How many times had he read them,
looking for answers? Looking for a path?

“I feel a swelling in the dark vampire covens. They are everywhere now.
We even saw them tonight when Lucius was trick-or-treating. I was most grateful
for the Jett brothers.”

“Where was this?”

“Johnson Street. You know the house next to the one Lucius calls the
Gingerbread House?”

“No. I do not know it.”

“There was a dark vamp there who knew Maya, or at least said she did.”

“I can see how this would distress you.”

“Not sure what would have happened if the brothers hadn’t been there. Is
the world changing so fast we cannot stroll down a dark street without worrying
about them using the opportunity to prey on the most vulnerable of our kind?”

Marcus was deep in thought.

“You obviously trust them—the brothers, I mean,” Paolo added. “What
if they aren’t enough?”

They looked at each other the way they used to when they were reaching
their age of decision. Marcus had always been sure he wanted to turn. Paolo
waited until the last minute, and had been looking for a sign their other
siblings convinced him was never going to come.

In the end, Marcus had waited for Paolo, both brothers taking the step
the same day. They spent the sunlight hours watching their skin turn, watching
the changes take hold. By nightfall they were completely turned and starved for
blood, and for sex.
 
They set out
together to satisfy both urges until morning of the next day.

Paolo had spent the next day alone, in bed, in complete despair, sure he
would spend eternity in hell.

They heard a soft knock on the door. Marcus opened it to see Lucius
standing there in his Batman pajamas with a book under one arm.

“What are you reading, young prince?” Marcus didn’t notice Paolo’s gasp,
but did see Lucius’ eyes expand. “Did I say something wrong?” He glanced between
Paolo and his son.

“That mean lady called me a prince, too,” Lucius blurted. “I could tell she
doesn’t like children, and she showed me her fangs. Nice ladies don’t do that.”

“She’s the one I was telling you about,” Paulo whispered to Marcus.

Marcus knelt in front of the boy. “Well, we have very good security here.
You are under my protection. And your father is one of the strongest men I
know, Lucius.”

The boy nodded and collapsed into Paolo’s embrace. Marcus stood and again
the brothers shared a look.

It was time for bed and the story Paolo had promised. He set his sights
on making sure the rest of the evening went off without a hitch, that Lucius
could fall safely asleep in his bed without a care in the world.

He knew he and his brother would be up half the night talking about the
dark days and the even darker ones arriving very soon.

Cara pointed to the eastern bulge on the map of India. The overhead
projector purred. Heat from the lamp wafted up to her face, making her perfume
bloom. She’d worn a low-cut, fuzzy sweater and had added some cologne between
her breasts.

I’m way too young for a hot flash.
But that’s exactly what it felt like. And the experience was pleasurable, not
embarrassing. No mistaking the signs of what she recognized as pure lust,
unadulterated animal attraction. She couldn’t wait to see the dark man she was
meeting today at lunch.

“It was here that Fraser did extensive studies on the temples in the
Sind. Being a man, he was fascinated with the harem women there, especially one
blue-eyed beauty whose name we do not know.” She looked up as her class
chuckled. She couldn’t see their faces, but noticed the projector light reflecting
off the glasses of some of her students.

This was always part of the story classes loved the most. She removed the
map of India and replaced it with a cellophane page of text, adjusting the
focus so the class could read along with her on the white screen.

“
I had heard stories about British
officers marrying Indian women and fathering children. Often these daughters
came to no good end, as they stood between the thresholds of two cultures. They
were dark-skinned beauties with blue eyes. They were not considered British,
although they were British subjects without rights. Their mothers could find no
place for them in India, and unless they married a Halfling, one of their own
caste, they were reduced to becoming the pleasure things of the Sultans and
wealthy families. But Indian society hated them. They were a scourge, a
reminder of a failed policy of colonialization, hypocrisy.”

The room was silent. Carabella continued.
“I was introduced and allowed access to one harem of the great Sultan
scholar, Martam Vishnu, who had been tutored in the classics by a teacher from
my birthplace in Scotland.

I was allowed to study at will. I
read scrolls that were nearly 1500 years old. I began reading about the
vampires of the Sind for the first time, in documents dating back to some 300
years A.D. The temples at Shastra were conceived at that time. A whole village
was planned, and may have flourished there. Very little of that civilization
remains, except for some of the precious writings, and the temples.

I found the writings to be
fascinating, sensual, and certainly erotic. I was taken aback that they worshiped
a blood lord who ruled over their kin. It was rumored that he could raise the
dead. He could also cure any number of sexual problems, especially lack of
desire on the part of the woman.”

Carabella looked up and switched on the lights. There was a groan from
the class.

“Have to save something for you to look forward to in Wednesday’s class.
Until then, write a five- to ten-page essay as though you were this explorer
Alasdair Fraser. Go on your own private journey. What would you find? What
would you write about?”

“Are we supposed to do research?” a student asked.

“You should probably ask a girl out for the first time, Kevin,” someone
chimed in and the class burst into laughter.

“Only into your own psyche. That’s all the research I want you to do,”
Cara told her class with a smile.

“That’s going to be a scary place, Ms. Sampson,” one student shouted out.

“Well, do your best, then. Borrow someone else’s fantasy,” Cara answered.
“Remember, this isn’t real. Vampires aren’t real. But just pretend, if they were,
how would you go about doing your own research. What could you find?”

The class spilled out, one by one. Cara collected her things and slung
her computer case over her shoulder, heading to the parking lot.

He was seated at a table near the rear of the restaurant, in a corner.
The Monday lunch crowd was never a large one. She’d forgotten how tall he was,
so when he rose to his feet when she approached, it startled her. Her shortness
of breath made the room seem to spin. He wore a citrus and spice combination
cologne she didn’t recognize, but instantly loved, almost as though it was
laced with pheromones.

“Thank you for coming,” he said without touching her. Her hand had
started to wander out in front of her, so she diverted it to remove her jacket.

“It’s self-service. Everything is very good here,” she said trying to
calm her nerves.

“What can I get for you, then?” He moved along the wall and brushed past her
on his way to the counter. The glancing touch warmed her skin and she felt her
cheeks flush.

“Chicken Caesar salad. I’m afraid that’s what I order every time.”

“And to drink?”

“What are you having?”

“I was having a glass of red wine.
 
They have a very good Merlot.”

“Um…too soon for me. I’ll have an iced tea.”

He motioned to the chair in front of her. “Please. I will be right back.”

She felt him looking at her while she heard him ordering her food. Though
she was facing the back wall, she had the sensation that his gaze covered her
in a thin, sensual veil. It felt like she was protected as well as being held
in a golden cage. She closed her eyes and wet her lips. She remembered the moment
at the ball when he had run his finger down her cheek and over her lower lip.
She could feel it all over again right now.

“Your food, Carabella,” he said as he leaned very close and whispered in
her ear. The feel of his warm breath on the side of her face brought her gently
out of her trance. One hand rested on her shoulder, and the other offered a
plate of crisp romaine covered in slices of chicken breast and grated Romano
cheese.

He sat across from her and raised his wineglass. She raised her iced tea
and sipped, dropping her eyes. But he did not.

“You aren’t eating?” she said.

“My schedule’s been hectic. I ate something earlier. Sorry.”

She shrugged her shoulders and breathed in deeply to gather herself. She
picked up her fork and began to dig into the salad. He was leaning back,
tipping the wooden chair, and smiling right at her.

“Have we met before?” she asked between bites.

Whatever are you doing? Where did
that come from?

“No. I think I would have remembered.” After a brief pause, he added,
“Why do you ask?”

“It’s just the way you…I don’t know. You act like you know me. Like
there’s some joke I’m not privy to.”

His face dropped the smile and he adopted a serious tone. “I’m not joking
with you. And I’m sorry if I make you feel…uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s just me. I spook easily.”

“No doubt due to the dark creatures you study all the time.”

Cara had to agree he was right. “My friends say I find conspiracies
behind every corner, mysteries everywhere. Drives them crazy sometimes.”

“But it’s what you love.”

It was a strange thing to say, but again he was right.

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, and continued. “Studying
mythology and symbolism makes you seek out and notice the unexpected, and
things that can’t be explained easily.”

“Like vampires.”

“Exactly.”

“But you don’t believe they exist.”

“God, no.” Her hunger evaporated. “I’m going to take this home and have
it for dinner.” She got up and requested a take-home box. After the server left
she transferred most of her salad to the cardboard carton. “I’m more thirsty
than hungry right now for some reason.”

He nodded.

Cara drank some of her iced tea and crunched on the ice chips. Placing
the box and her plate to the side, she leaned onto the table and asked him,
“So, what did you think of the ball?”

“It was wonderful. The first one I’ve been to in many years. I’ve missed
them. The costumes were…over the top.”

Cara laughed, thinking about some of the outfits. “I’d say you have a
fondness for little green faeries.”

“I admit to it,” he said with his hand to his heart. He leaned toward
her. “But my fondness for angels is unequaled.”

Cara could feel the blush coming on, and suspected the top of her chest
was covered with blotchy red marks. The centers of his eyes took on an
iridescent coppery glow, as if small bonfires resided there. He dropped his
eyes to her heaving chest and she allowed herself to be admired. When their
eyes connected again, something was understood between them.

What is this?

“I’d like to hear about your studies, Cara. May I call you Cara?”

“Please. Well, I became interested in the myth of the vampire because of
the symbolism. They represent the ultimate alpha male figure. Strong.
All-powerful. Dominant and controlling. Immortal. The ultimate bad boy you wouldn’t
want to bring home to meet your mother.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“Women read romance novels today because they are looking for the hero in
their fantasy life they would never find in real life.”

“And you think that’s wrong?”

“Of course not. I read romance novels all the time, especially paranormal
romance, with vampire heroes.”

“For pleasure?”

“Yes.”

“And so you began studying them?”

“Well, no. I am new to reading romance. Probably a good thing, too, or I
would have never made it through college. Hard to tear me away from my
favorites.”

“You like your alpha males.”

“Love them.”

“And do you have alpha males in your real life?”

It was a very personal question and it brought her up short. She grabbed
for her iced tea, swallowed heavily and averted her eyes. With her forefinger,
she traced the beads of vapor on the outside of her glass of tea. He was very
still, awaiting an answer.

“I think the answer to that would be no,” she said to the top of her
glass.

He squirmed in his chair, recrossing his long legs, tilting slightly back
again. “Tell me more.”

“About my studies or about alpha males?”

“Whatever you want to tell me. Tell me something I wouldn’t think to ask
you.”

Another strange question. His proximity made it so she couldn’t respond
to the alarm bell sounding somewhere. It was like her body wanted to, but
couldn’t for some reason.

“I’ve recently discovered some books by a 19th century Scottish
theologian and scholar. He claims to have located the first written recordings
of vampire myth. He found evidence of stories of raising the dead, giving life.
Sort of like what we read about in novels about a turning.”

“Vampires turning humans. Into vampires.”

“Yes. Only this clergyman claims there was a group of people who
worshiped and studied these myths shortly after the time of Christ. He wrote
that there were people who practiced these black arts, but also practiced what
he calls the
Divine Coupling.
Like
there’s some blood mating ritual.”

The smile had erased from Paolo’s face. Cara knew she’d lost him again.

“I’m sorry. You asked me to tell you something I wouldn’t have normally,
and I can see this was a mistake.”

He was watching her fingers move up and down her iced tea tumbler.
“Couldn’t these texts be explained away as just a healthy curiosity in sex? It
has been something men and women have worshiped and studied for centuries,” he
finished.

“No. Well, maybe for others, but that’s not why I’m interested in it. If
it’s true, he may have stumbled on the secret to immortality.
 
I don’t think it was about the sex. It
was about living forever, and dealing with living forever. What does one do
when one lives forever?”

“He drinks port?”

She smiled, glad he wasn’t taking her seriously. It didn’t hurt her feelings
in the slightest. “I keep wondering what sex would be like after having a
thousand years of it. Maybe the temples were built, the religion of the divine
coupling was created, to fill the needs of a bored society. Maybe some of them
didn’t want to live forever, and that was a problem for them.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I think they lost their immortality. On purpose. Chose to be
mortal. That’s why they and most of the evidence of their civilization
disappeared.”