The Cursed by Blood Saga

by Marianne Morea

  “May I buy you gentlemen each a draft?”

  The captain nodded, a polite smile breaking his lips framing a set of stained if not intact teeth. “Well, my friend, I don’t know about the gentlemen part, but you are certainly welcome to buy us a drink if you’re so inclined.”

  With a nod, Carlos ordered a round for the table and sat down. No one said a word, as silent assessments were tallied on either side.

  Drink in hand, the captain leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “So what brings you to Cadiz? It’s obvious you’re not a local lad. So my guess is that you want something.”

  Carlos did a quick scan of the tavern before leaning forward himself. In a low voice he explained what he looked to procure.

  The captain leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. Under cautious scrutiny, Carlos met the man’s gaze head on. “I know I seem young, but I assure you this is not the first time I have arranged such matters. I am well aware of the risks not only to myself, but to you and your crew as well. I am more than willing to make it worth your while.”

  The captain took a deep breath. Lifting his tankard, he tilted it in Carlos’s direction. “You can spare me the posturing, lad. I understand what you’re asking. What I want to know is why—and don’t try to tell me that it’s for the greater good ’cause I’m not buying it. I didn’t get where I am in this world by misjudging what’s behind a man’s eyes. I can see there’s more to your story than you’re willing to tell. Give me a better reason why I should risk my ship and my crew.”

  Carlos looked pointedly at the man, and with newfound respect began telling this stranger his story. The captain listened without interruption, and much to Carlos’s surprise, it seemed in this instance honesty was the best policy. Loyalty, as it turned out, was valued more in the eyes of the captain when it came to a person’s worth than all the money they could secure. The voyage to safety for Antonio and his family was set to sail from their home port of Valencia in less than a fortnight.

  “If I may ask, where are you lodging tonight?” the captain asked, cutting a wedge of cheese.

  “I planned to head back to the stables for a few hours’ sleep before I ride. I want to return to Valencia as soon as possible. I leave at first light.”

  The captain chewed slowly as if considering his words. Knife in hand, he pointed it casually at Carlos. “I know this may sound presumptuous, but why don’t you stay aboard with us? An extra set of strong shoulders is always welcome and as we’re already headed your way…” The captain chuckled, driving the blade point down into his hunk of cheese. “Hell, I’ll even let you stow your horse since it’s only for a short time.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never worked a ship before.”

  “Nonsense. I wouldn’t have agreed if we weren’t set to make port in Valencia next week. Why travel overland when you can sail? And I promise we won’t work you too hard. You’ll have to share a bunk with one of my men, though, as we do have a passenger sailing with us. An Englishman, quiet bloke, keeps to himself.”

  “An Englishman? Isn’t that a little odd, if not out and out dangerous, considering the political climate brewing these days? Many people feel another war with England is imminent. Our king is not well received in the courts of Europe, especially in regard to the topic of our recent conversation.”

  The captain shook his head. “No, he’s a decent enough fellow from what I gather. Came with enough coin, that’s for sure. He’s been no bother, and from the look of things he seems to be tying up loose ends to some sort of landed property purchase along the sun coast. But enough about him. We set sail day after tomorrow. What do you say?”

  ***

  Carlos walked along the deck as the sun hung low in the sky. The Soledad was a large galleon, with three decks and a substantial crew. They had made sail just as the captain promised, continuing in their journey from the Portuguese port town of Porto, named for its famous wine.

  Commerce was the Soledad’s main commission, and they were to transport barrels of Port wine to the French port of Marseilles for distribution throughout France before heading to Turkey. Valencia was to be a quick stop in between, where Carlos’s journey would end, and Antonio’s would begin.

  The gulls were keening loudly as the Soledad sailed quietly up the coast. Galleons were notoriously slow, the behemoths of the sea, but as the weather was fine no one seemed to mind the leisurely pace.

  “Enjoying the air?” a strange voice asked from behind.

  Carlos turned abruptly, a little startled. “Yes. I’ve been watching the gulls dive for their supper. It looks as though they’ve found a school of fish and have been feasting on it.”

  “You must be Carlos Salazar. I’ve heard the crew mention you were joining us for a short ride.”

  “Yes, and you must be the captain’s English passenger.”

  The gentleman chuckled. “Robert Mayfield, at your service,” he said with a flourish.

  Both men shook hands and went back to watching the sunset on the horizon.

  “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

  “No, unfortunately. Sea voyages leave my stomach rather temperamental, if you know what I mean, but I will gladly meet you for a drink in the salon afterward. It’ll be nice to have someone new to chat with.”

  Carlos nodded. “I’d love to.”

  “Good. I look forward to it. Are you anxious to be home? I understand Valencia is your home port.”

  Carlos exhaled, leaning against the railing. “Yes. I have been away just a short time, but it feels like forever.”

  “I gather you have family waiting for your return and by the look on your face, someone special as well, hmmm?” The stranger chuckled.

  “That obvious?” Carlos laughed himself. “Yes, her name is Isabel.”

  “Ahh….”

  “You don’t look to be that much older than I. What, no special someone in your life?”

  “Not for a very long time, my friend. In my world, companions are hard to…acquire,” he replied.

  Carlos nodded absently, puzzled by the man’s odd choice of words. He took his leave, promising to meet him for a drink, but walking away he couldn’t help but feel the man’s eyes watching him.

  He walked through the low-ceilinged corridor toward his room, passing the various mates as they went about the business of the ship. Passing the galley, he saw his bunkmate just about to leave. “On your way out?” Carlos asked, stepping aside to let the man pass.

  “Yes, sir. I’m on duty in a little while. And just what mischief have you got to?”

  Carlos chuckled. “I’ve been on deck. I just met the English gentleman. He seems a nice enough fellow.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know as he gives me the willies. I can’t put my finger on it, but he does nonetheless.”

  Carlos just laughed as the mate shivered theatrically before making his way toward the upper deck.

  ***

  Dinner had been pleasant, but as a storm brewed on the horizon, the captain called it an early night. He joked the sea was as fickle as a spoiled mistress, and he would need all hands at the ready if she decided to unleash her fury on them. The Soledad had made port that day, taking on more of its commissioned cargo, and no one was willing to leave it to chance.

  The salon was dim as Carlos ducked to enter through the narrow doorway. Cigar smoke hung in the air like a thin fog. All manner of nautical devices and maps decorated the room. A few leather chairs surrounded a gaming table and a smaller one of mahogany housed a mother-of-pearl chess set.

  “Do you play?” a voice asked from behind one of the high-backed chairs. Robert Mayfield stood in one smooth, fluid movement, a cloud of cigar smoke ringing his head. Tall and handsome, the man was dressed in a formal cutaway and silk waistcoat. He looked like royalty, and Carlos self-consciously fingered the frayed edge of his own travel worn frockcoat.

  Dismissing the foolish feeling, Carlos replied. “Not very well, I’m sorry.”

  “Not to
worry. How about a drink?”

  “Thanks. Brandy, if you don’t mind.”

  Carlos accepted the drink and sat down in the chair opposite Robert. “So you never said where you were sailing to. Are you going as far as Turkey with the good captain?”

  “I don’t actually have a destination in mind. I travel merely because it is something to do.”

  Carlos raised an eyebrow at his comment. “Something to do? I’m surprised. You don’t strike me as someone who is idle. You have no affiliations that require your presence? No work or family responsibilities?”

  “None to speak of…”

  Carlos looked at the man over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink. “That’s unfortunate. You must live a very lonely existence if you have no attachments. I don’t think I could ever be that alone.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised at how easy it is.”

  “Easy, or just something you’ve become accustomed to?”

  “Hmmm. That’s a fair question. I never actually considered that possibility. Why don’t you enlighten me? Give me the benefit of your life’s story—tell me more about your affiliations and what motivates you to feel so ‘attached’, to use your term.”

  They spoke for a while and Carlos found himself telling the stranger all about Valencia and his life—about Isabel, and how his family disapproved of his self-imposed obligations. He spoke of feeling compelled to do so, as if it was fate.

  “Yes, I know quite well what it feels like to be compelled. Like your very nature requires what it is you must do.” He sounded weary, as if he carried a heavy burden with the way he spoke, and Carlos found himself wondering what kind of man the gentleman was.

  “But, my boy, I find it makes life easier to just accept what fate has dealt us and acknowledge, even embrace our own nature. If you are compelled to do the things you do, no one should stop you. It’s who you are.”

  Carlos shrugged. “Sometimes we must put aside our own desires and think of what is best for all involved, don’t you agree?”

  “No, unfortunately I don’t. I, for one, don’t see the wrong in seeking out that which you want and taking it. It’s how I live my life.”

  “I’m sorry for you, then, but it explains why you are alone. One would need such a solitary existence in order to satisfy every whim without compromise, every desire.”

  “Yes…hmmm. It really comes down to just that, doesn’t it? Desire…” Robert trailed off, but his eyes never left Carlos. His gaze grew in intensity and it seemed as if his eyes changed color, deepened as he continued to stare.

  Carlos broke out in a sweat and his pulse began to race. His vision swam a bit and he stood up, gripping the chair for support. He couldn’t fathom why he felt so frantic, why his heart pumped like he had been giving chase.

  He looked up at Robert and saw the man’s smirk, his nostrils flaring slightly like he could smell the tang of adrenaline coming off his body. The man got up from his seat in one swift motion and glided over to where Carlos stood frozen in place. He moved so fluidly that he almost seemed to float.

  “Are you quite all right, my boy? You seem…flustered.”

  “I don’t understand why, but I feel as if my blood is racing through my body.”

  Robert took a deep breath. “Mmm, it certainly is,” he replied a little strangely.

  “I’m sorry, but I think I need to lie down. If you will excuse me, I’m going to head back to my room.”

  “Of course. Would you like me to escort you?”

  “No, thank you, I think I’ll be fine once I get a bit of fresh air.”

  Carlos made his way to the door of the salon. As he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder to bid the man goodnight, only to find he had gone. Too lightheaded at that point to wonder how or why, he just stumbled across the deck toward the crew stairs, trying desperately not to fall overboard.

  The room was empty when he finally got there. All regular crew were on duty because of the impending storm. Carlos unbuttoned his coat and shirt and threw them over the small cane chair in the corner of the tiny room. He splashed cold water on his face from the basin on the little wash table and stripped out of his remaining clothes and into a borrowed nightshirt.

  He collapsed on his bunk and threw his arm over his head, not bothering with the bedclothes. His skin was clammy, and he prayed he hadn’t become ill. He lay there as the ship rocked gently, eventually lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

  Carlos awoke with a start. Sitting bolt up in bed, he whirled his head around, disoriented, until he saw Robert sitting calmly in the cane chair staring at him again.

  “Robert? What are you doing here? Has the storm hit?” Carlos asked his voice still a little sleep-muddled.

  In the dim light, Robert’s eyes seemed even darker, appearing distant, detached. He inhaled deeply. “You have no idea how your smell affects me.”

  Carlos’s mouth fell open. “I insist you tell me what this is about! It’s extremely ill-mannered, sir, and I demand an explanation!”

  Robert approached the bed slowly, moving with a sinuous, predatory gait. He was in a state of semi-undress, with his ruffled dinner shirt unbuttoned to his waist. The hard muscled planes of his chest were smooth and his torso completely devoid of hair, at least until it met the undone buttons of his breeches sitting low on his hips. He licked his lips as he got closer, making Carlos acutely aware of his own vulnerability.

  With a rush of anxiety coursing keenly through his body, Carlos moved quickly, clamoring out of the bunk into a defensive crouch, his nightshirt billowing out past his knees. All remnants of sleep had fled, and the menace he felt surrounding him was no leftover dream.

  “Robert, I have no idea what you are about, but whatever your inclinations I assure you they are neither welcome nor reciprocated. You need to leave…now!” Carlos’s eyes never left Robert. If the man didn’t leave, he was ready to fight, and if necessary, to kill.

  Suddenly Robert’s face contorted. He lunged at Carlos, pinning him to the bunk. He became like some kind of animal, his jaws and teeth elongating and snarling, tearing at Carlos’s nightshirt.

  He reared up, his fangs sharp and glistening with blood as they tore into Carlos’s throat. He tried to scream, but the only sound he could utter was the gurgling hiss of blood and air as it escaped through his ravaged flesh.

  Carlos could hear the crunch of his bones and cartilage as Robert’s teeth ripped through his neck. He could feel the blood pumping out of his veins, the warm, wet feel of it as it ran down his chest, coating his skin and the bed sheets as Robert gorged himself.

  A blissful blackness settled on him and Carlos lost consciousness. The last thing he remembered was Robert telling him how this was only the beginning.

  Carlos opened his eyes. He tried to move, but found he was too weak. He looked around disoriented, as panic welled up. Most of his memory was cloudy and vague except for one—the memory of teeth tearing into his flesh.

  He was in a large bedroom, with carved stone walls hung with rich tapestries reminiscent of previous centuries. Heavy oak furniture surrounded a stone fireplace where a small fire burned low. Candles of different shapes and sizes adorned the heavy mantel, as well as the night table next to the large canopied bed where he lay, naked except for a sheet. The room looked as if readied in a hurry, and Carlos wondered where the hell he was.

  There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for a response, a servant entered carrying a tray of food. He didn’t say a word, just left the tray on the low table in front of the fire and left the room. Carlos tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillows. He had no idea how he came to be here or for how long.

  “Hello? I need assistance! Anyone there?” he called out in a weak voice.

  The door opened again and the same servant who had brought the food entered, followed by Robert Mayfield. The man was dressed unusually, in silken pants, loose fitting with a string waist, the kind Carlos had seen in books describing sultans of the east.
Its matching robe fell in soft folds to his knees, and was completely open to the front. “I see you are finally awake. Are you hungry?” he asked nonchalantly, as if the scenario were perfectly normal.

  “You! Where am I? How did I get here? I demand to know what you have done to me!”

  “So many questions, and asked so rudely. I’m surprised at you, Carlos, and I thought you such a well-brought-up young man,” Robert tsked, plucking a bunch of grapes from the tray.

  “Robert, I warn you, I will kill you if you do not tell me what is happening here. I demand to know. I demand to be released.”

  “I’m afraid that I can’t allow. Do you remember our brief conversation aboard the Soledad? The one regarding a solitary lifestyle? Well, you see, dear boy, I thought about all you said, about how lonely my existence must be, and I found I had to concede. So I’ve decided to make you my companion.”

  “You have no right to keep me here against my will!”

  “Oh, well, there’s the rub, my friend. That is where my concession to your way of thinking ends. I still very much live for my own wants, and what I want now is you.”

  “It’s unnatural. I won’t allow it!”

  “Oh, my boy, haven’t you figured it out yet? There is nothing about me that is natural,” Robert sneered. His face contorted and he lunged for Carlos, pinning him down against the feather mattress. He sank his teeth into his throat, reopening his existing wounds.

  “I have brought you home, Carlos. We are on the outskirts of Valencia,” he said, sitting up and wiping his bloody mouth on his sleeve, laughing. “Aren’t you grateful?”

  Horrified, Carlos blanched struggling to sit up. “What are you?” he choked, but was too weak to do anything but gape.

  “I am death…I am life,” he said with a flourish. “As soon you will be also.”

  “I’ll die first,” Carlos answered, spitting in the man’s face.

  Robert just laughed, wiping the spittle from his cheek. “Oh yes…you’ll die first all right, and it will be exquisite. Then you will be reborn to the same life I lead. We shall then see how well you can still exist with your…attachments, hmmm?” he taunted, fingering the tiny portrait of Isabel he drew from the pocket of his robe.