Dark Rapture

by Hauf, Michele

  “Umm…” Catrina purred deeply, a habit indicative of her mischievous, shameless lifestyle. “Well if he is chilled I shall be available to warm him.”

  “Ah, innamorata, keep those claws retracted.” Federico pulled her hand to his mouth and grazed his lips over her knuckles, receiving a fluttering gasp from her. “We wouldn’t want to frighten away the mouse before we’ve had time to properly play with him, would we?”

  Catrina tugged her skirts from between the filigree iron that lined the marble stairs leading down into the portego. “Restraint is your best attribute, brother, not mine. I promise I shall try. Though I do become bored so easily.”

  They landed the stairs, passing an engraving by Dürer, Melancholia, which featured a disgruntled, if bored angel and her cherub companion who seemed not in the least impressed as the master of the house and his mate passed them by.

  Federico paused on the last step, tapping the thick silver ring wrapped round his forefinger against the iron railing. The massive blue stone captured the candleglow in blue flashes that scanned across the carved plaster work, lighting the faces of a thousand cherubs in heavenly pride.

  “Your boredom is my misery,” he said, contemplating, watching, as Catrina fluffed her ruby skirts. A dash of mahogany fell across her bare shoulder, a curl to match the flame in Federico’s hair. He pressed it between his fingers and the vein on her neck. “I hope you like the diversion I have chosen for you this time. And the prize…”

  Catrina’s wicked smile prompted Federico’s own. “All good things come to those who possess the skill to take them.”

  ***

  “Ciao, Signore de la Court, you must forgive our rudeness.” Federico crossed the blue and gold Italian tiles in the music room and slipped his hands over Sebastian’s shoulders. The two men exchanged quick kisses to either cheek.

  “Forgive me if I have offended,” Sebastian began in newly learned Venetian. He impressed himself immensely with his ability to quickly pick up the lisping Venetian dialect, which was curiously different from the Italian he already knew. “Your footman directed me toward the music room. I didn’t want to be a nuisance but I was drawn to the lovely harpsichord.” He gestured toward the elegant ebony harpsichord that glittered with inlaid gold filigree.

  “On the contrary”—Catrina stepped forward, offering a hand sparkling with the same brilliant blue jewels that donned her brother’s hand— “I am quite sure you shall never be a nuisance. It is my brother and I who beg your apology for being so tardy.”

  “Well, enough of this damned forgiveness.” Federico gestured to the patterned rose-silk sofas. “Let us sit and discuss the reason we’ve called you to our humble palazzo on such a fierce night. You had no problem braving the storm, I pray?”

  “Little problem at all. Though I fear with the storm picking up momentum my trek home may not be as pleasant. The lagoon has literally frozen over, I’m sure you’ve heard. I passed a great dazzle of golden lights and merry fêtes on the way here.”

  “So I’ve heard. I’ve been begging Rico to take me to the Piazza San Marco for the Carnival. But it has been treacherously cold.” Catrina clutched her brother’s arm possessively and gave him a little pout before redirecting her attention to Sebastian. “But the weather won’t hamper your return home?” she asked bluntly, as if she completely expected that it shouldn’t.

  Sebastian shrugged. “No, Signora. I’m quite sure I’ll manage.”

  The two siblings exchanged looks and then stared across the room at Sebastian. It was then that he noticed the eerie flash of brilliance between the two of them, as if one blue-eyed creature stared back at him.

  “Signore de la Court?” Federico prompted.

  “Huh? Oh, mi scusi. It is just…your home…” Regaining his composure, Sebastian glanced away from the incredible sight, finding it hard to erase from his mind as his eyes browsed over the sky blue walls overlaid in gold filigree, and across the expansive room to the harpsichord of matching blue and gold that he so longed to touch. “…it is lovely. It is almost beyond words.”

  Federico gave an modest shrug of his shoulders.

  “So…I wonder if I may inquire as to why you have invited me here this evening?”

  Federico spread his arms back across the silk couch, smiling slyly when his fingers tripped across the curls showering down Catrina’s neck. “It is your musical prowess we seek, Signore de la Court. I’ve heard much about it and my sister wishes to perfect her musical skills. Having been recommended to me by a recent acquaintance, I thought to search no more.”

  “An acquaintance?” Sebastian wrinkled a brow. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his embroidered frockcoat. “May I inquire as to whom you speak of?”

  Federico glanced to Catrina, his mouth dipping into a frown, which in turn drew his brows down with it.

  “I am new to Venice…and…it is only because I’ve not taught for many years,” Sebastian explained. “I would have to wonder who would recommend my services if they had known that I was no longer teaching.”

  “Ah, if you are no longer teaching.” Federico spread his hands in the air, seeming to dismiss the whole offer.

  “Oh, it’s not that,” Sebastian added quickly.

  “We would be willing to pay,” Federico interjected casually, the frown slipping away beneath the thin line of his mustache.

  “Really?” Sebastian’s interest piqued. He caught the preening gaze of Catrina Bellange. She wore a tiny black patch at the corner of her eye. The Italians referred to this choice of placement as passionata. So true. He quickly looked away.

  “It was Signore Francesco Volierre,” Catrina stated with a snap of her fan against her palm to close it tight. “He recommended we seek you if I was to obtain the best musical instruction.”

  “Francesco,” Sebastian muttered under his breath while fighting the hoard of memories that rushed through his mind. But why? We are no longer friends.

  “Signore? Is there a problem?”

  Problem? Of course, if you consider Francesco and he had been friends since childhood, until the tragic death of Francesco’s beloved Serena ripped them apart. It was an accident…I never meant to kill her, I was only protecting her from Francesco’s wrath. Oh…the brilliant crimson blood that seeped from her breast through the egg yolk colored fibers of her dress…

  Sebastian shook off the deafening screams of his past and focused back on Federico. “N’importe. So…you two are friends of Francesco Volierre? Might I ask how you know him?”

  Federico stood and pushed back the sweeping hem of his black velvet velada. His hand gripped the gray silk waistcoat that covered his hip.

  “I don’t wish to be rude,” Sebastian interjected. “But I—”

  “I feel the relationship my sister and I have with Signore Volierre is of no importance to you, Signore de la Court. Though, I will allow we were casual acquaintances, having met him only this summer while Cat and I vacationed in Paris.”

  “Signore!”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the high-pitched warble of the maid. She scrambled down the marble staircase, her hands playing nervously with her brown skirts once she noticed that she had interrupted.

  “Can’t you see we’ve a guest, Violetta?”

  Sebastian nodded politely when the maid bowed and acknowledged him as if an afterthought.

  “Scusi, Signore Bellange, but the girl, she has—”

  Catrina, who had ignored the rude interruption until now, abruptly turned to the maid at the mention of a girl. Sebastian noticed her eyes flare wide at the maid as if a signal of sorts. He glanced to the maid who was turning knots into her skirts with the way she fidgeted, finding she took Catrina’s signal as a means to be silent by biting her lower lip and lowering her eyes.

  “Si, the girl.” Federico turned to Sebastian. “We’ve a poor sick child staying with us. Her family had left her at the charity hospital. You see, my sister—she has such a good heart—has a penchant for caring for the
ill.”

  Catrina smiled genially at her brother and reached for his hand, which he squeezed gently.

  The shock on the maid’s face transferred to Sebastian’s own. “If there’s a problem—” “No, no, Signore de la Court,” Catrina cooed. Her tone changed sharply as she ground words directed to the maid through clenched lips. “What is the worry, Violetta?”

  “It’s the g-girl,” the maid stuttered. “She’s…she’s…”

  “Expired?” Federico asked casually, causing Sebastian to stare with morbid amazement at him.

  Violetta nodded mutely.

  Sebastian gasped. “Oh, you mustn’t let me keep you. This is a tragedy—”

  “Nonsense.” Federico hooked an arm around the maid’s rounded shoulders, leading her back toward the stairway. “Have Alphonse fetch the surgeon, Violetta. He shall take care of things. There you go, that’s a good girl.”

  “The surgeon?” Sebastian stood. “But if she’s dead—”

  “Ouff.” Federico waved a dismissing hand through the air and returned to Catrina’s side. “It is of no worry. This has happened before. Unfortunately the sick children we take in are generally of a terminal nature.”

  Catrina bowed her head solemnly as her brother spoke.

  “Because of my sister’s good heart we offer poor families a restful place for their dying children, instead of leaving them to breath their last breathe in some stinking hospital. We’ve some lovely rooms upstairs made up especially for Catrina’s guests.”

  “That’s very generous of you. The two of you.” Sebastian caught Catrina’s eye as she looked up. She smiled widely, revealing a dazzling sparkle of teeth. He immediately forgot the shock of hearing of the girl’s death as he found himself transfixed on the woman’s seductive smile.

  “Where were we then…” Federico crossed in front of his sister, shaking Sebastian from his stare. “Ah yes. Quite simply Signore, er—may I call you Sebastian?—we are making you an offer. Will you tutor my sister or do you have no interest?”

  Sebastian looked to the fire, feeling his lust to become close to his music again flare as wildly as the flames. He hadn’t touched the cool ebony keys of a harpsichord since he and Francesco had parted ways. That had been over two years ago.

  What was he to do? Why would Francesco recommend his services to people he did not know? Especially when he and Francesco were now sworn enemies? Was this a trick? Some sort of ploy?

  And what did he know of Federico and Catrina Bellange?

  But of course, their generous nature had just been revealed. They took in sick children to ease the family’s burden. They gave poor families joy in knowing their children’s dying moments could be lived in luxurious, clean surroundings. Could two people be more charitable?

  Sebastian inadvertently caught the glimmer from Federico’s left eye. How odd. Twins. Born of a shared womb, though not alike in looks. Federico was tall, a stately shape that towered over his sister. His frame was sturdy and rugged, yet agile. Catrina, a good half foot shorter, was delicate and fine, though her eyes flashed a menace that made Sebastian uneasy. The only resemblance that would indicate their shared birth was the shiny mahogany that crowned their heads in lustrous unnatural vibrancy and the mismatched eyes that perhaps should have been exchanged with one another before birth so they each would have had a matched set.

  Ahh, but they had offered to pay. And though he was not lacking in money—he had no need for food or drink—he certainly could use a little extra to purchase a decent home for himself. As it was, he spent his nights in fire-warmed taverns watching drunkards nod off over their steins, or if he was lucky, he passed the night with a lovely signorina. During the day he slept in an abandoned warehouse in his coffin.

  Sebastian glanced about the lavish walls of the music room. The air was warm and comforting; the presence of two who sought his skills, a dream. Oh, to have the companionship of a warm human soul again, and after roaming the French countryside for years, alone, and feeling a beast in man’s eyes. Friendship.

  That is all I want.

  “I shall be honored to provide my services.” Sebastian stood and received Federico’s kiss to each of his cheeks. It was strange, but normally Sebastian found it hard to make physical contact with another person without feeling…the temptation. There was none with Federico. Though there was something else. Something different. An attraction, almost mortal, like the feeling one gets when they swoon over an attractive woman.

  “Ah, good man. Catrina, you hear that? Very soon my lovely sister shall be performing for our guests instead of my having to engage them in droll, witty conversation. You shall be greatly appreciated, Sebastian, my friend. Ombra!”

  A house servant bearing wine rushed to his master’s command and the threesome toasted their new friendship.

  ***

  A mangy black cat let out a vicious yelp as Sebastian’s boot met its mark. He slipped in the snow and stumbled onward, cursing the beasts that ran rampant about the frozen calli of Venice. Even in the winter months, constantly doused by the acqua alta and the occasional snow storm, one was not saved of the incessant meows of the Venetian cats.

  He approached the bridge that crossed the Rio del Noale and carefully ascended the ice-slicked steps. The street sweepers, who dug out their shovels in the winter, had not emerged this morning to chip the ice from the bridges. Traveling by foot, which was the only possibility since the lagoon and a few outer canals were frozen, was treacherous. Even for a vampire.

  But Sebastian was not upset over the weather. How could he be? His life had taken a complete swing for the better.

  It had taken only two weeks of daily lessons before Sebastian began to feel the comforts he had once known. Federico and Catrina Bellange were generous with their favors. Too generous. But having lost all suspicion of their friendship with Francesco, and feeling quite sure they had no idea as to what sort of creature he really was, Sebastian resigned to relax and let them do as they pleased.

  From what he had discerned of the elaborate palazzo they lived in and their lifestyle, they were quite rich, and could easily afford to pay him well. They enjoyed gifting him with fine presents. A gold clip for his sheet music turned in the shape of a G clef; money, which had allowed him to rent a small one-room apartment a fifteen minute stroll from the Palazzo Bellange; and precious wines from Rico’s private stock. And with the greatest gift of all, their cherished friendship, there was nothing more he could ask for.

  Yes, he liked Cat and Rico, and had taken to calling them by the intimate names they used for one another. They in turn called him Bastian, a name only his mother had called him.

  Oh, mother. The memories rushed forward unbidden. He had left her the day after his abrupt transformation and unwanted introduction to the vampire life.

  “Mere, I must go. Please, I cannot explain.”

  Angelique de la Courte’s eyes had watered with tears as she shook her head. “I do not understand, Bastian. What is wrong? Have you done something awful?”

  “No, mere. It is nothing like that. Please.” Sebastian buried his face into the warm folds of Angelique’s woolen gown. He couldn’t bare leaving without an explanation, but he knew the truth would be his mother’s death. How could he ever begin to explain what he had become?

  Angelique pulled a golden chain from the pocket hidden beneath her skirts. On its loop dangled a shiny pocket watch, one Sebastian had seen her caressing many times, touching its cold surface to her lips in silent adoration of the memories the trinket brought her.

  She pressed it into his palm. “You are my one true love, my son. I know you would not be doing this unless there were a very good reason. Take this…it was your father’s.”

  Sebastian rubbed his eyes, wiping away the cooling tears and Angelique’s pale smiling face. The pocket watch was hard against his heart. Your father’s. Yes, the father he had never known, the Portuguese singer with whom Angelique had an affair. A sense of calm and gladness filled his heart to k
now Roberto LeReaux, Angelique’s legal husband, was only his stepfather and not his blood relative.

  “She must never know,” he whispered now as he stepped across the slippery snow. “I will die before I let her find out that I am a vampire.”

  Sebastian tromped through slushy snow, his thinning leather boots ruffing against the exposed Istrain stone used to pave the campi.

  The closeness Rico and Cat offered was a dream, something no mortal would offer him if they knew what he was. But the Bellange twins had no idea of his true identity. And Sebastian strove to never let them learn his dark secret. This was his first chance at having some semblance of family since the loss of his own. And he would do anything to keep it.Shaking icy flakes of snow from his tricorn and coat, Sebastian stepped inside the Palazzo Bellange, handed his things to the footman, and looked about as a stream of servants passed him by. They carried in rococo-styled chairs and tables, cabinets lacquered in subtle pastels and delicate flowers, a gilded floor mirror, and rolls of carpeting.

  “But what is this? Everything is coming in so I assume they are not moving?”

  “Bastian! Ciao! Come in if you can.”

  Sebastian slipped past a wide screen of golden chintz that made its way up the marble staircase.

  He followed Cat’s swishing peach skirts down the long portego that stretched the entire length of the palazzo. Once inside the music room, he slipped a freshly transcribed manuscript from under his frockcoat and placed it on the harpsichord. “What is going on? Have you gone shopping again, Cat?”

  Catrina sidled up to him on the music bench. “You are a silly one, Bastian. It is not me who is the shopper. They are gifts from Rico, he is redoing my study.”

  “Your study? And what, pray tell, do you use a study for?”

  “Bastian.” She ran a manicured nail under his darkly stubbled chin, sending a delightful shiver down his neck and a flush through his cheeks. “Are you implying I might be one of those unthinking silk-stuffed dolls who parade about the city on the hand of her rich lover?”