NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (3 page)

“I would think that you would presume it more to be your nightmare.” The stranger’s comment cut into Van’s disheveled thoughts.

Van gazed at him derisively. “So if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and you will be nothing but a distant, albeit peculiar, dream. I need nothing more than to close my eyes for a moment and when I
open them, you will be gone,” Van elucidated at if it
were the perfect solution to his problems.

The man smiled at Van’s somewhat childish way of looking at this rather serious situation.
He would amuse him, he decided, j
ust this once. He had time for nothing more.
“Then by all means, go ahead,”
he stated flippantly, crossing his arms.

Van squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw brilliantly colored stars under his lids. Wh
en he opened them, the stranger
was not there. Van let out a huge sigh of relief.

I
knew
it was only a dream,
Van thought smugly.

Van turned around and the breath he just let out was immediately sucked up in a loud gasp.

“I am afraid not,
m
o
n ami
,”
the man laughed slightly. “I can hear your thought
s
just as clearly as if you
had spoken them aloud,”
he explained. “We are connected regardless of how you feel about it or how you interpret the situation before you.

“I sensed you pain and desperation. So I came to you. To help you through this journey for you cannot walk it al
one,”
he spoke benevolently.

Van looked at him as though he were talking in riddles. It seemed this stranger was more confused and messed up than he was. He decided not to ask the man to elaborate on the details. He was afraid he would just dig himself into an even
deeper hole. One he would not get out of. He concentrated on the beginning of what the man had said. Maybe he could deal with that a little bit better.

“If you wanted to help me, as you so claimed, why did you not come for me when I was orphaned at thirteen?” Van demanded to know.

“You were not ready. You were too youn
g and not at a consenting age,”
he answered simply.

Van shook his hea
d. “Let me get this straight,”
Van started. “You came to help me now even though I am quite old enough to make my own decisions? But, you refused to help me-or so you say-when I was a young child in desperate need of car
e?
In need of food and a roof
over my head?
And now that I am of a ‘consenting age’, you want to help?” Van put his fingers to his temples, trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “I cannot believe I am even having this discussion.” He looked up at the stranger in suspicion. “Who are you?
What
are you?”

The stranger said calmly,
“I can tell you that I am called Saldivar.” He bowed at his introduction then snapped up suddenly. “But I will tell you no more until we are in the privacy and safety of my
ch
a
teau.
” He reached out his hand and gestured for Van to follow. “Come. I will get you food and drink. You can even have a bath and a fresh change of clothes.”

Van took a tentative step forward then stopped. “Why are you helping me?”
he
asked once more, doubt clouding his gray eyes.

“I have told you. I cannot and will not discuss delicate matters such as this until we are home. Now come.
We are wasting precious time,”
Saldivar spoke impatiently as he began walking east. “W
e have wasted enough as it is,”
he said under his breath.

Van followed Saldivar w
arily at first. He did not know one thing about this man. For all he knew, Saldivar could be some kind of killer. A person who charmed and spoke sincerely, by deep down held some kind of tyrannical monster.

Saldivar heard Van’s every thought.
True, some beings like him
could be vicious fiends, but he was not one of them. “That
I am not, my cautious friend,”
Saldivar smiled.

“Stop doing that……..that
whatever it is you are doing,”
Van ordered a bit weakly. He cocked his head to one side, obviously puzzled. “How do you do that anyway?”

“In due time, impatient one,” Saldivar said evenly, not letting Van in on anything at this time.

Van decided to continue following Saldivar. The promise of food, a bath and a fresh change of clothes sounded like pure heaven to him.

Nothing was said for the remainder of the trek to Sald
i
var’s home.

Castle, really. Van observed in awe as they walked through the wrought iron gate and up a narrow stone path that led to a rather large wooden arched door. It was beautifully crafted in rich brown color with an epithet carved neatly in the middle: a single S.
It could have meant anything but somehow Van knew it stood for Saldivar. The vastness of the house took Van’s very breath away. It was an old ethereal beauty.

When Van studied it more closely, however, he realized it was in ruin. Cracks had started forming in various places. Ivy had grown into parts of the walls and covered some of the dusty windows, obscuring the view of a well maintained yard.
Mainly, it was the we
ar and tear of many years
and harsh rains, foul winters and blazing summers. The combinations reeked havoc on a person’s home.

Though the front yard was well kept, it hosted no flowers or none that Van could see. He guessed that maybe they lay dormant because autumn was giving way to another frigid winter. Or, it could be Saldivar saw no need for such things.

Van scanned Saldivar’s place as a whole.

It must
have been enchanting long ago,
Van concluded.

“It was,”
Sald
ivar said as he unlocked his door and stepped through with Van following behind him.

“How would you know?” Van wondered.

“I was here when they first built it.” He paused momentarily for effect. “One hundred and fifty years ago.” He laughed, making Van think he was jesting.

Van chuckled along with him.
“Oh, some kind of humorous entertainment.”

Saldivar’s smile faded ra
ther quickly. “Certainly not,”
he stated in all seriousness.

Van’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. How was he supposed to comment to something like that? He was definitely
bemused at this whole situation
.

Saldivar led Van into the antechamber. Off to the right side was the living area. The fireplace there, classic in its smooth black stone, crackled with a blazing fire to ward off the chill of the night. Upon its marble mantle were a myriad of very elaborate sculptures of women. Van walked into the living area to study them more closely. There were two tiny holes on their necks. Van grimaced. Their eyes,
he noted, were
froz
en in euphoria. Their look seemed to say
that this is what they had wanted.

Van shivered unconsciously as he continued perusing the house, noting that looks can be deceiving. The outside of Saldivar’s castle did not mirror the inside. Van was expecting worn walls and chairs and threadbare rugs, dusty with disuse. Saldivar was full of surprises.

Van reasoned that it could be Saldivar wished to remain in solitu
de. If he wanted company, he wo
uld simply seek it out.

Funny,
Van thought,
that I would surmise such a thing.

Van noticed how strange the stairs were to the second floor of this gigantic place. Straight ahead was the hallway lined with scrolled, brass candle sconces holding either
a
black or
a
red
candle
.
The stairs were on either side and as you ascended them, they curved and circled slightly back up near the antechamber, leading to, Van assumed, the bedrooms or other such rooms.

The antechamber, he observed, was circular with round, expensive rugs hued in deep burgundy and jade adorned the middle of the floor, forming a perfect concentric circle.

Saldivar had a very unique style that seemed to be all his own. Everything came together quite beautifully. Van admired the structure and decorative touches here and there. He knew that everything in Saldivar’s home was expensive. He had seen plenty of wealthy people. He knew what they preferred in their homes. He would never have it but at least he knew a little about the prices of homes and its belongings along with the price of the beautiful clothing he saw men and women prancing around in.

Saldivar entered the living area and silently watched Van peruse his personal effects.

The stone floors were, yet again, covered in expensive rugs, though these had tigers and leopards woven into the threads. Their camouflage of orange and black seemed to pop out of the fabric. They looked alive and ready to pounce out at you at a moment’s notice.

The arms of the chairs and the legs of the tables also had exotic animals carved into the deep, rich mahogany. Rich wood and shades of brown gave the room a comforting ambiance. It was very welcoming and relaxing.

The soft couches looked so inviting. They made you want to sink into them, giving you the respite you were desperately looking for. Van felt he could sleep there and never want to awaken.

Van walked over to the oil paintings scattered about the neutral colored walls. They were painted with such a perfectly skilled hand, Van thought the people posing in them would come to life at any moment. They looked happy in these poses.
Happy and wealthy.
Now they will be eternal.
At least through the painting.

Over the mantle of the fireplace
there
hung one painting that caught Van’s eye. It was
Saldivar staring back at him. Van blinked. He looked over at Saldivar to make sure he was really there and not fooling him with this painting. Because the date made Van do a double take. Van studied it queerly. It read 1357. Saldivar looked exactly the same as he did now.
The impeccable clothing.
That distinguished mien.
The dark hair and sallow skin.
You could almost see his soul through eyes that held nothing back. He looked ready to conquer the world. His posture boasted a confidence Van neither felt nor had in his entire life. What a feeling it must be to exude such a powerful stance.

To be fearless in a world of uncertainty.
It was not an arrogant pose but a post of being proud and sure of oneself.

Van’s eyes ping-ponged from Saldivar to the painting.
If the date was really correct, Saldivar was painted three hundred and forty years ago. But that could not be possible. No one could live that long. Not that age and be human, that is. Van raised his eyes to Saldivar’s slowly. He didn’t seem inhuman to him.

Van was so nonplussed he did not know what to think about anything any more.

“I see your eyes a
re filled with many questions,”
perceived Saldivar, finally speaking. Van opened his mouth to speak. Saldivar held up his hand and Van closed his mouth. “I will indeed answer your inquiries as soon as you have bathed and changed your clothes.” Saldivar scrutinized Van’s attire. “Or what is left of them.”