Come The Night

by Armae

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  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  www.amberquill.com

  Copyright ©2002 by Josephine Piraneo

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  DEDICATION

  I'd like to thank my family, the gals at Saratoga RWA, my co-workers & friends—who by now can recite every line of this book even in their sleep—and especially the “Legion of Paradisian Scholars"—you know who you are—who have helped in making all my writings possible. And last but not least, I'd like to dedicate this book to the late Thomas J. Shevlin, Sr., my Poppy, and to my late cat Egypt, the little furry feline who became my late-night companion during all those hours of writing.

  PROLOGUE

  Palazzo Vecchio, outside Rome 476 a.d.

  Romulus scowled. “The empire will never regain its strength. Rome as I once knew it is gone for good.”

  Octavia heard the pain in her father's voice, the mental anguish of being torn between the Vampyre and the man. She knew he spoke of himself in those words. She sensed it in her soul.

  “Perhaps this is not a good time.” She had the sudden need to run, the sudden need to flee her father's palace. Octavia knew the danger of pressing the Vampyre, of pushing such madness to the edge. “I can come back.” She hadn't thought summoning his dark side would be so frightening. “I—I can come back when it's more...convenient.”

  He didn't answer her.

  She stared at him and mused at the facade. On the outside, Romulus looked every bit the dignified Roman. He wore a gold seal ring on his right hand and the prized toga draped well about his body. What would Caesar have thought had he ever learned the truth about her father, about the beast that dwelled within him? Now she saw Romulus in an entirely different light. His eyes seemed so dark. So tired. She couldn't remember ever seeing him in such a greatly disheartened state.

  He sat in a gilded chair, looking much like an aging king seated on an ancient throne. His handsome, ageless face seemed suddenly marred by the winds of time and his restless soul haunted by the wickedness of his tormented existence.

  Octavia shook the dark thoughts from her head. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere of the chamber with its cold, gray marble lit by far too few candles. She sensed no peace here, no warmth. This must be how he always felt. How the man inside the Vampyre felt. The feeling disturbed her more than ever. Wishing away her father's pain, she closed her eyes. But it didn't work. She felt him stronger than before. The Vampyre that ruled Romulus’ soul now dwelled nearer to her own.

  Octavia felt her father's inner turmoil by merely being in his presence. She sensed in her soul that he wanted her to come closer, to embrace him. The power of the Vampyre reached out to her, calling from beyond the ethereal plane and stirring her to the core. But she knew better. Fate had been cruel to him. It kept Romulus away from his children. The most any of them could hope for were a few brief moments like these—moments stolen in a darkened chamber of his marble palace.

  She summoned up the courage to speak. “I'm not here to talk about Rome, Father. I came because I bring you your grandson. His name is Lazarus.”

  Octavia held the infant in her outstretched arms. The clanging of gold bracelets sliding down her arm echoed about the room as she propped the child up for her father's viewing. She prayed to God he would accept the child.

  Romulus leaned forward and stared at his grandson. He looked uncomfortable being presented with such a situation and took no care to hide such feelings. A stern frown darkened his face even further. He raised an eyebrow and then quickly turned away.

  “So, you have finally given me an heir. Hmm.” He grunted and dismissed the child with a wave of his hand. “Why did you bring him here?”

  “Because he needs you,” Octavia said. “Lazarus is not a full-blooded mortal. His father was an angel named Lexliel, a Grigori who fell from grace while living in Eden, as did most of the Grigori, the angels of the tenth choir.”

  Octavia fidgeted with the folds of the violet palla draping her stola. Her father had been upset when she ran off with a man he had never met. But none of that should matter now. Her husband was dead and Lazarus was all that was important to her.

  “If Lexliel were still alive I would not be here.” She sighed. The two men she loved most had both left her in times of need—her husband bound by Hell, her father cursed by Hell. “I have nowhere else to turn.”

  Romulus rose from his throne. With slow, cautious steps, he approached her and Lazarus and came as close to them as the Vampyre inside allowed him.

  “They say only demons, the damned souls of the Nephilim, come from the union of a mortal and an angel.”

  “I don't believe that,” said Octavia. “Look at him.” She gently unwrapped the folds of silk that cradled her son. The tiny infant was full of life and far from being anything like that which legend had prophesied.

  Romulus took the child from Octavia's arms and held him close to his heart. “He is a strong soul. I can see it in his eyes. What do you wish me to do with him?”

  “Bring him over.”

  “But why?”

  “If legend is true, he will die. If it is false, the Nephilim who know the true nature of his soul will kill him. Besides...” Octavia paused. She knew her father wouldn't resist the blood of a newborn child. “You already hold him too close to your heart. You've crossed the line of fate and, having done so, you will not release my son until your hunger is fed.”

  Romulus froze. “I hadn't realized I'd taken Lazarus from you,” he said. “Forgive me.” He stared at the child and became lost in his smile. “He reminds me of you as an infant. You had the same eyes, the same mouth. You made me forget about the troubles of Rome. After long hours of debating with Caesar, I'd return home to wake you and hold you. Do you remember my embrace, Octavia?”

  “Of course,” she said. “In your arms I was secure, safe from the demons a little child imagines exist in the world. Little did I know...”

  He sighed. “The Vampyre in my soul forced me to leave. I had no choice. I couldn't allow you to become what I had been for centuries.”

  “Centuries? But you were my father. How could you have been like this for hundreds of years and still given life to me?”

  “My demons were exorcized by the Nazarene. He rehabilitated my soul.” Romulus carried his grandson to a table in the corner of his chamber. He lit a group of candles, illuminating a large gold cross previously hidden by the darkness. “His Spirit has been my constant companion. He graced me with the gift of communing with angels and nourished my body with the fruits and berry wines from the gardens of Paradise. Because of the Nazarene, I was once again able to welcome the morning sun and wrap my soul in its warmth. But nothing lasts forever.” Romulus paused. He turned away from the cross.

  “No one could condemn the soul who saved me from my hell, yet they crucified Him just the same. In the days that followed, I slowly returned to my old ways. And in that chaos I have remained for centuries.”

  Octavia reached for her father. She placed her hand on his shoulder and cared nothing for her own safety, nothing for the threat that now lingered in the near shadows. Being physically close to Romulus put her life in danger. The Vampyre inside her father would judge her the same as it would any other vulnerable soul—as a source of warm blood to feed its hunger.

  “How did you escape such torment?”

  He turned away, a sigh echoing in
the darkness. “I fell in love with your mother. She was a Tracker, a mortal who hunted the Vampyre. She became my link to the outside world and offered me help. Had I had no conscience, she would've hunted me.

  “I was given an amulet that held the blood of the Nazarene, the one they called Christ. This man had a great following and one of his apostles gave me the amulet. I befriended the Nazarene, and in turn, I was given a chance at redemption. The powers contained within gave me back my mortality long enough to father a family. But it was not easy. I never stopped wrestling with my hunger for blood. Eventually, it conquered me. That was the day I left and confined myself to this room.” Romulus pulled away from Octavia. He placed his grandson on the table in front of the cross. “Is this the life you want for your son?”

  “Like you, he has no choice.”

  “Then so be it.” He removed the remaining silk from the child's body. “But I will bring him across only if you agree to certain conditions.”

  “I'll do whatever is asked of me,” said Octavia. “Anything to save my son.”

  “You must allow me to bring you across as well for I will teach you how to rehabilitate the child's soul. And when the deed is done you must promise to take me outside so I may breathe my last breath.”

  Octavia gasped. “But, why?”

  “I've lived long enough,” said Romulus. “It's time for Lazarus to rule my empire. From this day forward, he will be known as the patriarch of my tribe.” Romulus removed his seal ring and placed it on a silk cord. He draped the dangling ring over Lazarus’ neck.

  “Your son shall age until he is thirty-and-five as would any other soul. After that, youth will be his eternal companion.

  “It is your duty to make certain he couples with a Tracker so that from him a savior will be born to destroy the Dark Breed. This is what the Nazarene prophesied to me. The Dark Breed are the demon souls born to the Grigori who did not repent their sins in Eden. These offspring are beings that are half-mortal, half-fallen angel. Instead of facing death, they were brought across by a beast that rules the Nephilim.

  “The legend is true, my sweet Octavia. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I cannot. The Grigori have fathered countless children in man's world. And many of them are living demons. Lazarus is different.” Romulus peered down at his grandson. “I can see it in his eyes, the windows to his soul. His father was a Grigori who repented was he not?”

  Octavia nodded her head in agreement, but remained silent. She realized the strength of the Vampyre inside her father was greater than she had previously thought. Romulus could read Lazarus’ soul and perhaps even her own.

  “You were right to bring him here,” said Romulus.

  Octavia crossed the room in silence. She wanted this task to be over and done with.

  “Do not struggle with your conscience, my sweet child. Even God will not condemn you for your actions today.”

  “But how can you be so sure? I am allowing you to make my son into a creature of the night, to bring him into darkness. Surely we will all be damned.”

  Romulus turned to his daughter. “No, that is not true.” He pleaded with her. “It can't be. I did not voluntarily become what I am today. My forefathers were suckled by the she-wolf. And as a youth I was mesmerized by this famous tale.”

  He rubbed his neck as if to ease a pain or stiffness. “One day I encountered a she-wolf whom I thought to be the very creature that saved Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. My ancestors were mortal twins suckled by a wolf—a powerful, wild creature who raised them as her own. However, the creature I encountered was anything but caring.

  “The first time I laid eyes on her she was in wolf form, a beautiful animal unlike any I had ever seen before. In time, she changed her shape and appeared to me as a mortal woman. She teased me and tempted me in ways I'd never imagined possible. She filled my head with nonsense. I became her slave, sick with an unnatural love for her. I was just a mortal pawn in the wolf's game.” He shook his head in disgust. “I wanted nothing more than to be a king of Rome like my forefathers before me. I wanted to be taken up to the Heavens by Mars and made a god.

  “The lives of those legends were in my blood.” Romulus fisted his hands. “And the she-wolf preyed on my naiveté. She drugged me with poisoned milk and took me to a being that lived only in darkness. I was her gift to this beast, a fool with a swollen head and warm blood running through my veins.” He paused. A cold, icy chill filtered through the room. “The beast soon brought me across and from that day forward I have lived in misery. At times I can still feel the pain of razor-sharp teeth sinking into my neck. The odd sensation never really leaves you.”

  Romulus reached for Octavia's face. The touch of his cold, dead hands felt like ice against her skin and made her shiver. “Turn your eyes away, sweet daughter. I do not want you to see the evil that violates my soul.”

  Octavia did her father's bidding. She faced the darkness of the marble chamber and wept silently. Hell had shown her no mercy in the past. And today would prove no different. She held her breath as Lazarus screamed in the background. His strained cry filled every inch of the room as life was first drained from him and then replenished. She hated herself. She hated everything right now.

  “A pitcher of wine sits on the stand in the other corner,” her father said. “Bring it to me along with some fruit from the bowl. But do not set your eyes upon me.”

  Octavia fumbled through the darkness. She didn't know what to take first but then filled one hand with peaches and nectarines and plums. In her other hand she carried the pitcher of wine. Small droplets of the burgundy-colored liquid fell to the floor and stained her soft leather shoes as she hurried back to her father.

  With Lazarus in his arms, Romulus reached out from the shadows and grabbed the pitcher first.

  “Come,” he said. “The deed is now done. You must see to it that he drinks this daily.” He placed a finger in the wine and then gently brushed it against Lazarus’ lips. “As for the fruit, give him small pieces at first. In time his hunger will grow.”

  “Is this wine and fruit of Paradise plentiful in the markets?”

  “No. You must never speak of these things in such a place. Only an angel can supply you with the fruits and wines of Paradise. The archangel Raphael is known as Heaven's healer. He will see to it both you and Lazarus are supplied with all the nourishments necessary to sustain your souls. Simply call his name when you have need of him.”

  She took a deep breath. Angels, demons—it seemed so much to learn in such a short time. Octavia knew of the Trackers, of the Grigori, but only a little of the Vampyre. Now that would change. “But what about the blood? What if—?”

  Romulus cut her off. “Never allow your son to drink mortal blood; only that of the wolf. I shall provide him with a pack of wolves raised for the sake of feeding the Vampyre. And even this blood should be taken only in moderation. Lazarus must remain in a rehabilitated state. If the need ever arises for him to bring a family member across, then and only then, should he drink from a mortal's veins. When the task is completed he must undergo a severe healing treatment. If not, he will die a slow and painful death poisoned by the sin of drinking mortal blood. When the Nazarene redeemed my soul, I was forbidden to drink from a mortal's veins. If I did, I would pay a heavy price for transgressing. Christ demanded it be this way. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well then. I must finish my work here. Turn your head away, Octavia.”

  She felt her father's hands about her neck as he pushed the soft silk palla from her skin. He removed the ornately carved fibula that held it in place.

  “Forgive me, my sweet,” he said. “And know I do this only because of my love for you and now also for Lazarus.”

  Octavia nodded. Tears flowed from her eyes like a river flooding its banks. She thought of Lexliel, of Lazarus, of her childhood. She filled her head with pleasant scenes, anything to take her mind off the present, anything to escape the fear. />
  But such thoughts had little effect on the moment at hand. In an instant she felt the agonizing pain of her flesh being torn apart by the razor-sharp daggers of the Vampyre's piercing fangs. The sound of her blood pumping fiercely through fragile veins sent her head spinning. She felt as if she were on the verge of exploding inside and imagined all her veins bursting one by one from the immense pressure contained within them.

  She was dizzy. Life faded from her at an alarming pace. A bright life engulfed her body, tugging her into an endless tunnel. No. She tried to fight it. She saw herself running from the light. I don't want this. It's not supposed to be like this. Please...God... Father...Lexliel...someone, anyone...

  Darkness rose up like a beast from the depths of hell. It took her soul, her life. Drained of everything but a single breath of being, she fell to the floor.

  * * * *

  Hours passed. Octavia was sure of that. A sweet taste filled her mouth—something she had never savored before.

  “The wine of Paradise.” She heard her father's voice. “Nothing on earth can compare to it.”

  “I can taste. I—I am still alive.”

  “Of course, you're still alive. I would never have allowed you to die, my sweet Octavia. But life will be different for you now.”

  She rose from the soft bed her father had obviously placed her on and glanced around the room reacquainting herself with the darkened chamber. “Where is Lazarus?”

  “He is safe in the cradle next to your bed. I had a slave girl bring a cradle, wash him and wrap him in new swaddling. I had a clean stola brought for you as well. There was blood on the one you wore before. When I am gone, burn the old one and journey into your new life without any traces of the past.” He paused and a shadow of concern crossed his face. The act of bringing her and Lazarus across had been a bloody one.

  Her soul ached with grief as she stared at Romulus. She now sensed her father's time coming to an end and wished it wasn't so.