Celeste drew back and smoothed her hair away from her face. The Lady had cracked just for a second, but now she was once again the ice queen. “Matteo, please take Soborgne and go explore, or prepare for whatever you must do this evening. Someone will escort you and make sure you have everything you need. I would like a little time with Jenda, alone.” She spoke the words as if they were a request, but her tone demanded action.
Matteo and Soborgne immediately tried to refuse her. They voiced their displeasure at the idea of leaving Jenda on her own rather vehemently. Celeste’s cool words silenced them both as she addressed Matteo. “Do you not trust me, old friend? Do you not think I would die for this mere girl? She is everything I have waited centuries for. The two girls are the sun and the moon in our world. I will not harm her. I only intend to teach her the things you will not. Soborgne is strong and her will is too fierce for her to trip along unknowingly, but Jenda must be taught. Will you do the teaching, you who have hidden away through the years, yearning for humanity instead of embracing your fate as I have done?”
The menace in her words, the blatant disappointment in her eyes, and the ever placid smile that never left her lips made Celeste’s speech all the more painful for Matteo to hear. He showed no anger; he only bowed his head as the stinging truth of it all ripped into him. Celeste, better than anyone, would know he longed for love and humanity all these years. He’d never felt the decision to become a vampire was his own. He’d made his choice out of duty, honor, and love. His reward became isolation and an overwhelming sense of his own evil.
Silently, he took Soborgne’s arm and gently led her from the room. Once the doors closed behind them, Celeste turned her attention to Jenda. The tension was thick in the air. By wounding Matteo, Celeste brought out Jenda’s anger in full force. Perhaps she meant it or perhaps she only wanted to smooth over the entire mess so she could proceed with her plans. Whatever her intention, she quietly sighed and explained to Jenda the meaning of her rant.
“Matteo has never accepted that he will live forever as a vampire or die in the worst of ways. He holds to him the old emotion and fear that should have passed when his heart ceased to beat. I understand him as no other has—until you, that is, and you still have much to learn. I do not wish to hurt him, but it is sometimes the only way to make him see what is best for the moment. I promise you he will forgive me, and I hope you will as well.”
Jenda thought for a second before carefully answering the woman before her. “I love Matteo for all the reasons you condemn him. I will stay and I will listen to what you have to teach me, but I warn you, Lady Celeste, I will not stand to hear another word of malice towards him. He is caring, not callous. He is naïve, not spiteful. He is the gentlest man I have ever known.”
Jenda’s warning did not bother Celeste. In fact, she beamed proudly down at her. “Well said, Lady Jenda, perhaps there is more courage and fight in you than I believed.”
Jenda rose from the lounge chair. She intended to question Celeste about the statue, but before she could, two men entered the room. One was obviously one of the castle guards. Dressed in the same type of uniform as the ones she met upon entering the castle, he bowed deeply before speaking. “Lady Celeste, the donor you requested.”
As quickly as he had come, he exited. He left the other man standing there, smiling lovingly at the Lady of the Castle. He was human, and his freshly washed skin smelled of spiced soap and blood. His dark eyes did not roam from Celeste’s face as he bowed before her in respect. Jenda knew the man was to be the blood donor. She was staring her dinner in the face—literally.
Celeste thanked the man and called him by the name Dominique. Jenda cringed. Her dinner not only had a face, it had a name. Her stomach twisted. A silent and bloody battle waged inside her mind and heart. Her instincts were sharpening. Her teeth lengthened into deadly needles and she salivated at the thought of warm fresh blood. Yet, her heart was screaming in denial of everything physical that was happening. She watched the events from her own eyes as if they weren’t real.
The man removed his white button up shirt and folded it neatly before placing it on the back of the chair. He sat down on one of the wide lounges and waited expectantly. Jenda moved as if being compelled against her will. She slowly approached the lounge and stared down at the man’s naked torso. The pull of the blood was overpowering her. The heady scent enticed her to sit near him, to lay her hand gently on the warm flesh. The man tilted his head to the side to allow her better access and she nearly moaned in anticipation.
She could see the vein just beneath the skin. It pulsated with life. It called to her, promising her sweet relief from the aching in her jaw and the burning in the back of her throat. She inched closer, wetting her lips with a quick dart of her tongue. Her eyes were riveted to the sweet little spot just above his collarbone. She could already taste the salt of his skin. She could feel the warmth of him. Her lips were less than an inch away from his flesh. One small movement and she could press her teeth ever so gently into the pliable flesh.
Celeste stood a respectful distance away. Her own teeth lengthened, but she did not feel the pains of hunger any longer. She was too old, her blood so saturated with the evil that allowed her to live after death that she no longer craved feeding as she did in the beginning. Her only concern was Jenda.
Celeste knew Jenda must take the lifeblood from a living human in order to build her strength. So far, the process was slow, but she had faith the vampire would eventually win the war with the girl. Jenda would feed or things wouldn’t be pleasant. Celeste wasn’t a cruel vampire, but if she had to, she would starve the girl until she couldn’t help but feed. She would do it with love and with decency. She would not treat Jenda to the tortures she had once survived.
When her creator did such a thing, it was with malice. He used her hunger to break her will and force her to comply with his wishes. He starved her to the point of insanity. When she cried and pleaded for days for just a drop of blood, he finally gave in. He shoved some ragged street urchin into the room and barred the door. Celeste drained the child until nothing remained. She killed out of necessity, out of survival, but she wept just the same. When he finally released her from the room, long after the corpse began to fester and reek, she became the cold and distant woman she was today.
Blocking the memory from her mind, she went back to focusing on Jenda. The girl was hesitating. Jenda was so close to Dominique that not an inch of space remained between the two of them. Jenda’s eyes glazed and turned the color of rubies as her fangs descended. Yet, she did not move to take the donor’s blood. For a moment, Celeste entertained the idea of gently opening the vein for Jenda. She could run one perfectly sculpted nail down his neck and release the blood. Yet, the danger of getting her hand bitten off deterred her.
The need for such action quickly diminished, however. Dominique felt the coolness of Jenda’s breath on his skin and an involuntary shiver of pleasure ran through his body. Gooseflesh raised on his perfectly tanned and textured skin, proving too much of a temptation. Jenda’s mouth met his skin and a moan of ecstasy escaped from deep in her throat. Dominique’s hands came up to wrap around Jenda’s body, holding her securely to him. One hand lay gently in the mass of red curls tumbling over them and concealing the deadly kiss.
Jenda’s mind raced. Her body felt as if her nerve endings were coming to life for the first time. The blood poured into her and she wondered how it could ever be wrong to do this act. Only moments before she had been afraid, and now she was in pure ecstasy. As her mind locked in on the rhythm of Dominique’s heart, the images came. She saw him walking through the gardens with a beautiful human woman. She saw her as if through his eyes. The loving glances, the hinted flirtations, and the joy she saw translated too purely as love.
Lost in the images of his mind and the high from the blood, Jenda did not notice when his heart skipped a beat. She continued to draw from him, her instincts taking over so she reveled in the moment. Celeste move
d closer when she noticed the subtle change in the rhythm of the heart.
She gently pulled Jenda from Dominique’s arms. Shock, then anger, and then understanding crossed over Jenda’s features in rapid succession. Staring helplessly at the wound in the side of Dominique’s neck, Jenda could not help but want more, even though she knew she had nearly drained too much already.
Celeste’s gentle prodding helped to calm her. “Matteo has taught you how to seal the wound, correct?”
Jenda only nodded her head before leaning in to do so. She gingerly bit down on her own tongue, wincing slightly at the pain. Once she had a small amount of blood accumulated on the tip, she gently lapped at the damage she had created. The last traces of his blood sent little electric shocks through her. For a second, she found herself back in the embrace of blood and spirit. The wound closed and she sat back to see Dominique was resting peacefully, a small smile on his lips.
Celeste reached out, took Jenda by the hand, and led her into the gardens. Jenda recognized them immediately as the ones she saw in Dominique’s mind. Jenda glanced back once towards the man still lying on the lounge. She wanted to thank him.
“Jenda, my dear, the pleasure you feel when you feed is a shared one. They need no words to tell them you are grateful as long as you are always gentle and never take their lives. Humans are a fragile species. Treat them as more than mere vessels for hunger. Each time you feed, do so with love and they will feel it as well.”
Jenda contemplated Celeste’s words. She remembered Soborgne’s words on the flight. How the irrational thoughts and hunger drove her out of the hotel and into the dark alley where she made her first human kill. Soborgne had slaughtered a man who was more evil than any vampire could be. He was a killer and rapist of women and children. If anyone deserved to die, that nameless monster did. Jenda worried something primal and uncontainable controlled Sobo.
A cold feeling settled into her heart. Voices sometimes whispered into her best friend’s very soul. They made her crazy with bloodlust and egotism. She was under their influence and powerless against their will—a puppet to what some would call instinct and others would call blood lust. While wrapped in the spell of the blood, Soborgne thought vampires should cage the humans and retake their position at the top of the food chain. Her brain ran on pure desire for flesh, as Belle and Augustine’s minds once had.
Celeste took Jenda’s silence in, wondering if the girl’s mind was strong enough to bear the weight of what would be her destiny. “Are you feeling better now, Jenda?”
Jenda simply nodded at first, and then the words came pouring out of her like a waterfall of fear. She told her how Soborgne went mad and how it resulted in a man’s death. She was shaking miserably as she stammered, “I’m scared, I am confused, and I cannot stand not being prepared. I have learned almost nothing since I was changed and I do not understand why we are here. I have heard the prophecy, yes, but really, what does it mean? Can’t you tell me something, anything that may help Soborgne?”
“I find it odd that you ask that I help your friend and not you. Do you not fear the darkness? Do you worry it will take you as well?” Celeste stared at her intently.
“No.” Jenda’s answer was simplistic and heartfelt. She said it without flair, but with conviction. Somewhere inside her, she felt the strength behind that conviction. No, the darkness would not take her. It may tempt and tease her, force her hand and attempt to drive her out of her mind, but she would overcome it. Soborgne, however, always related more closely to the shadows than the light. She always teetered on the thin line between dangerous and wild.
“You have a resilience about you that will serve you well.” The conversation paused as they rounded a row of large hedges and came into view of the most engaging and enigmatic statue. The black hooded figure sat upon a white marble throne, a large open book to his side and a golden pen in his hand. On the large stair leading to his place upon the throne, an inscription read ANONYMUS = GLORIOSISSIMI BEL + REGIS NOTARIVS. Only the size of the thing told Jenda he was not a real person hiding beneath the cloak. Something like Peter at the Gates, if they were the gates of Hell.
She approached the statue gingerly, still afraid there might be life in the bronze. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the statue of the lovers. As she stood in front of Anonymous, staring up, Jenda could see the face of a man beneath the folds of the hood. The sight was breathtaking. A stunningly beautiful work of art, the statue was full of darkness and mystery.
Jenda spoke in whispers, afraid to destroy the magic of the moment. “Who was he?”
In turn, Celeste’s voice was also hushed in reverence, either to the statue or to Jenda’s rapture with it. “The inscription, as you see, only says Anonymous. The humans here did not know him, except for the man who recreated his likeness and fabricated an honorable background for him. That man, Miklos Ligeti, was a faithful servant and an extremely talented artist. Mr. Ligeti was the only human to see the face of his master and live.
“The humans believe him to be a nameless scribe. What lowly scribe could earn a statue of bronze, a marble throne, and position here in such beauty? The man beneath the hood was my creator, my husband, and my tormentor. His name was Von Sieb. His mission was to see that vampires took what was rightfully ours. To him, that was the world.
“He brought me here to Vajdahunyad Castle shortly after its completion. He modeled parts of the castle after the Dietrichsteint Castle where we lived in Transylvania. He meant it to be my prison, but his untimely death made it my haven.” When Celeste spoke of her creator’s premature death, Jenda realized that Lady Celeste was as guilty as she and Matteo were of the vampire form of parentalicide. They had all caused the deaths of their creators.
“He is depicted here with his book and pen. The book was his journal of victories, defeats, battle plans, and secrets. Its pages were made of flesh and its coverings of bone. The pen with which he wrote was made of the finest gold and filled with blood instead of ink. He wrote the creation and the death of each of our kind inside that book. He kept it by his side unless he was at rest. Then he hid it somewhere in the castle.
“After he died, I searched the entire castle, I asked the spirits for their direction, and I beseeched anyone that held his confidence for information. Despite my attempts, the book was never recovered.” The spell that held her as she spoke was broken and she turned towards Jenda with fresh tears brimming in her eyes. She clung precariously to her flawless façade.
“Why did you bring me out here? Why did you show me and tell me these things?” Jenda was at a loss as to why someone she barely knew would bare her soul so openly.
“I brought you here because it is beautiful and I wanted to teach you the most valuable lesson that I can. Sometimes darkness comes hidden beneath such beauty and purity that it is difficult to tell that it is evil. Millions of people travel here each year to touch the golden pen that this statue holds. Each of them touches a piece of hell without ever knowing it, because the beauty draws them here. You must remember this above all other lessons, Jenda. Darkness will seek you out in the most seductive ways, and even when you think it has perished, it will leave you searching in ignorance.”
Together, Celeste and Jenda walked back through the garden. Each was quietly considering the things that had transpired. When they came back into the room of statues, Dominique was gone. They were alone, and before the time she had with Celeste was up, Jenda wanted to ask about the statue of the lovers. She walked briskly to the far corner of the room, almost afraid that it would be gone now. Her fears were unfounded—the statue stood in the exact place it had been before.
“What did you see?” Celeste’s question surprised Jenda. She’d expected to be the one to broach the subject. She thought Celeste would think she was mad or delusional from her diet of bagged blood.
“The statue moved, the bronze melted away, and she looked at me. She smiled and she looked just like Soborgne.” Jenda couldn’t believe she had the ne
rve to blurt it out.
“Jenda, you have gifts that I will explain. You have the same sight the women of my family have shared for countless generations. I have heard of your travels to the spirit lands and I have seen proof today of your visions. Know that this is nothing to fear, and may help you in your destiny. For now, trust your feelings, listen to the voices, but do not act without caution, and do not walk in the spirit world until you have learned to control your power. With midnight approaching, I must end our session so you may join your friends. I will see you again tomorrow after sunset. Come here alone.” Again, she did not attempt to hide that it was not a request.
Jenda quietly agreed. As she turned to leave the room, Celeste hugged Jenda tightly. “Knowing that you are finally here lightens my heart. I have waited so long for you.” The weariness in her voice made Jenda want to comfort her, but Celeste broke the embrace.
6
Soborgne and Matteo, left to their own devices, were not enjoying their wait. The icy chill of silence hung like a curtain between them as they made their way back towards the golden hallway. The Chosen One was not there to be their guide this time. In his place was a tall and lean vampire with red curly hair.
Soborgne tried not to notice and was gallantly trying not to show her amusement about the man’s freckles. She couldn’t believe it. He had a tiny dusting of freckles right across the bridge of his nose. He was not hideous, just plain looking and average. When Matteo began a conversation with him, Soborgne was secretly glad for the distraction so she could study him more closely.
Soborgne compared him to others she knew. She noted he wasn’t muscular like Matteo or Imre. His frame was large enough not to be skinny and he had nice muscle tone. The freckles were only a shade different from his pale skin, but they did an amazing job of setting off pretty green eyes. His eyes were an earthy color, more subdued than Jenda’s fiery green, and his hair was true red, unlike Jenda’s beautiful auburn. He did not claim the stateliness of Imre, the agelessness of Celeste, or the inner fire of Belle.
Requiem of Humanity Page 27
