Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren

by Silvana G Sánchez

  That’s when she met Ivan.

  Resurrecting the past made no sense. Seeing Michael again had only reminded her how she lost her one shot at happiness in life.

  “Marianne?”

  Marianne

  “It really is you…” He stood at the foyer, both hands in his jacket’s pockets. “For a minute there, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “I hardly recognize myself, nowadays…” she mused.

  He sat on the floor, next to her. Stay away, Michael Reese. His bold fingers smoothed over her jawline, carefully tilting her head. Michael removed the tulle that covered her eyes. “There you are,” he whispered. He then unpinned Marianne’s hairdo, bringing down her mane of wavy auburn hair.

  “I heard you were on tour…” she said, trying to avoid his stare, but Michael’s shimmering eyes locked in hers. It might have been the moonlight’s doing, but he looked handsomer than ever.

  “I was,” he replied with the same smoky voice. “I almost dropped this last-minute gig… I’m glad I didn’t.” He paused. “Ten years… Has it truly been that long?”

  “A bit longer actually…” Marianne huffed. “Michael—you can’t stay here.” I’m a monster and I’m afraid you won’t like that.

  “I agree.” Michael pursed his lips. He then got on his feet, standing still beside her. “We should go.” He smirked.

  Marianne all but laughed. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” turning towards him. His hand reached for hers, inviting her to stand, and foolishly enough, she took that offer.

  “I should get rid of this ridiculous gown first…” she mused looking down at the glistening skirt. “Would you mind waiting?”

  “I’ve waited ten years for you, I can wait twenty more minutes.” He sniggered.

  This man had danger written all over him. Maybe this wasn’t the best of ideas, but no harm could come out of a little reminiscing, right?

  “It’s a nice place you’ve got here…” Marianne wandered through the penthouse’s entrance. It had an outstanding view of the Bay, with a spacious deck begging to be discovered.

  “Thanks,” Michael dropped the keys in a bowl by the entrance. “Shall we?”

  They moved outside, to the deck. Marianne leaned against the railing and closed her eyes.

  “We used to dream of living in a penthouse by the Bay… Do you remember?” he said, standing beside her.

  She nodded. “This could have been our life together.”

  Michael drew closer, smoothing his hand down the side of her face. “It still can be,” he whispered. “Marianne… I never stopped looking for you. I never stopped… loving you.”

  The musky fragrance of his skin as he moved closer drove her wild with desire. Michael’s nearness intoxicated her, and from this delicious high she never wanted to come down.

  “I want to lose myself in you, Michael,” she whispered, leaning closer to meet his lips. He kissed her with desperate longing, and determined to have her, he carried her inside.

  They moved down the hallway, making out all the way. Michael got rid of her blouse and unfastened his jeans as they stood at the bedroom’s door. A rush of excitement pumped through her veins. The racing anxiety, the anticipation—it made her feel alive again, mortal again.

  “Babe…” he whispered, pulling a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re trembling. We can stop this right now—”

  We can’t. It’s too late. “I want you, Michael Reese.” She pulled off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. Marianne kissed his neck, fighting the damned urge to bite his carotid artery.

  As their bodies entwined in furious lovemaking, Michael fought to contain her. He meant to tie her down to him because that’s all he knew, but Marianne was a free spirit. His struggle was the core of their attraction. The fight to have her was a battle he’d lost before it ever begun.

  She moaned in ecstasy as she surrendered to his vicious whims.

  “Ten years worth waiting for…” he whispered in her ear.

  She rolled over him, pinning him down. “We’ll see about that.” Marianne kissed his neck and worked her way up to his earlobe. Grazing the skin with her fangs, a few drops of blood poured. She licked them away, enjoying the thrill that rushed through her body afterwards.

  It took Michael all his strength to sit on the bed’s edge, her smooth thighs straddling his waist. Holding her tight, he pulled Marianne closer. “Say you’re mine,” he said in a throaty voice.

  What a selfish bastard! Marianne hinted a smile. She remained silent.

  “Marianne—” he growled, tightening his grip.

  “Yes!” she cried in wave after wave of unparalleled euphoria. Michael’s body convulsed as he moaned. “Yes! Yes!”

  “¡Ay! ¡Señor Reese!” The woman covered her widened eyes with her hands, her face flaring up. “I’m so sorry!” She fixed her glasses and stepped back, stumbling against the bookshelf on her way to the door.

  Michael laughed. He covered his face with his hands and then, he laughed some more.

  “Who was that?” Wrapping herself with the sheets, Marianne laughed too.

  “That was Paloma,” choking another laugh. “She’s my PA.”

  “Your… PA?”

  “Personal Assistant,” he added, giving a quick look to his wristwatch. “Wow. She’s early!”

  “What?” In Michael’s arms, she had lost track of the time. She had forgotten she was an unnatural creature that fed off human blood and should avoid the sun at all costs. “What time is it?”

  “Five fifteen in the morning,” he mused with a groggy voice, rubbing one eye with his hand.

  “Shit! I have to go.” Marianne got out of the bed. She slipped into her jeans and shirt. With haste, she gathered her hair in a quick bun and put on her black leather boots.

  “Babe,” Michael groaned, pulling the bed covers. He then grabbed the keys from the night table. “Take her. She’s yours,” tossing her the keys. “She’s in the driveway.”

  Marianne took his leather jacket and put it on. “See you later, babe.” She blew him a kiss.

  Michael stretched his arms over the bed’s pillows. “Just like old times… huh?”

  Marianne winked.

  A black Sportster Harley waited for her in the driveway. Marianne hopped on the bike, started the engine, and sped like chased by the Devil towards Belvedere Island.

  No time to relish on the fact that I spent the night with Michael—not until I’m safe from the upcoming dawn.

  In a race against the clock, Marianne sped through the Golden Gate Bridge. She reached Villa Belle Vedere as the first beams of dawn touched the horizon.

  She hurried inside the house, her racing heart about to burst from her chest. She leaned against the door as it closed behind her and slowly slid to the floor.

  Close call.

  The wild night of ecstasy she had spent with Michael flashed before her eyes. She sighed. She would have relished in that memory if not for a sudden realization.

  I’ve betrayed Phillip.

  Not only had she turned to Michael’s arms, but she had done it so easily. “Leave it alone, Marianne,” she mused. “Don’t think.”

  What was that alluring fragrance in the air? She got on her feet and followed the scent to the library. Whatever it was, it was delicious. “Yummy…” she whispered as she entered the room, unaware of what she would find.

  The after-party

  It would have been the most compelling sight of Ivan Lockhart had there not been three dead bodies on the Aubusson rug. A soft melody filtered in the dimly lit room. He lay on the sofa, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, unbuttoned vest and shirt. His eyes were closed, lost in his thoughts as he was.

  “What’s this?” she said, stepping inside.

  Ivan’s green eyes opened and fixed their indolent stare on her. “This?” raising his brow. “This is the after-party… It was a wonderful evening, too bad you missed most of it.” He reinstalled into his detached pose, the back of hi
s hand covering his eyes.

  Shards of glass cracked beneath her boots as she moved further. Tossed on the floor, there were empty wine bottles, champagne glasses, smashed ashtrays… torn books? The entire library was a disaster zone.

  The bodies were attired in expensive tuxedos. There was a woman too, her sequined black gown spread on the rug like a blooming black rose.

  “Wait a minute…” she mused. “They’re guests!”

  “Were guests, yes.” Ivan furrowed his brow. “Now, go away. I’m beyond exhaustion.”

  “What’s wrong?” moving closer to the fiend. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be—when you stop pestering me,” he said, heaving a sigh. “But it looks like you’re not leaving, are you?”

  The woman had curly blonde hair. She wore a purple mask, her pupils were wide and fixed with an empty stare. “I’ve seen her before,” she said. Marianne observed the other bodies with more detail. “Ivan… These were Antoine’s friends!”

  Ivan huffed. “Why should you care?” he said. “You’ve only met them last night.”

  But she did care, for Antoine’s sake. Marianne got on her knees, her hand smoothed over the woman’s cheek—an unstoppable flow of images flashed in her mind’s eye.

  “No! Please, don’t!” a shuddering Ethan cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. Ivan’s fist closed around his neck, crushing his windpipe before he had a chance to scream. He died instantly.

  Why was she seeing this? “Stop. Make it stop,” she said, but the visions continued in a film that rolled without remedy.

  “Frank!” Isabella tried to warn him but it was too late. Ivan’s fangs shredded his carotid artery and within seconds, it was all over for him. Frank’s body hit hard against the floor.

  “Last, but not least,” Ivan hissed. His eyes transformed by the Kill. The hunger pulsed hard in his every limb, dominating his reason, blinding him as well as guiding him in the Hunt.

  “No more, Ivan!” Marianne cried. “I don’t want to see this!” Stumbling, she got on her feet and backed away from the woman’s corpse, but still, the visions went on.

  “Please… Don’t kill me…” Isabella mumbled as she wept, backing into the library’s corner. Desperate to save her life, she clawed at the shelves, sobbing without control. “I don’t want to die!”

  Inches away from her, Ivan smoothed his hands on the sides of her face. “Shh… Don’t cry,” he whispered in a velvety voice. A sudden serenity invaded her and she stopped weeping.

  “This will be over before you know it,” he said. “Sleep now.” Isabella’s eyes closed and seconds later, she fainted into Ivan’s arms. Only then did he take every drop of her blood.

  Marianne snapped off the trance at last. Her scornful gaze landed on Ivan, aware of his trick, for it had been his design that she witness each scene of his killing spree.

  Ivan seemed pleased with his work. With a smile, he told her: You haven’t the faintest idea of whom you’re dealing with.

  Stepping back, Marianne saw another body on the floor, a few feet away from Ivan. His arms frozen by rigor mortis reached towards the very Devil. His mask was tightly clenched inside his fist. The man faced the floor, it was impossible to identify him.

  “Well?” Ivan said. “Aren’t you going to ask me about him?”

  “I don’t care anymore,” she muttered.

  The fiend laughed, vexing her more than she would show. “Are you sure about that?”

  Marianne loomed over the body. Was he… breathing? “What the—?!” He moved! In the eeriest act she’d ever seen, the dead guy’s arms folded over his chest and his body swayed to one side, immediately entering a violent seizure.

  “Ivan…” she said, stepping back. “Ivan, he can’t breathe! Do something!”

  “There’s nothing I can do,” Ivan said, indifferent. “He’s dying, that’s all.”

  The man’s convulsion came to a full stop, and he was back to being a statue tossed over the Aubusson rug—but wait. He now turned over his back, desperately gasping for air. His vacant stare fixed on the ceiling. His struggle finally reached the end.

  Although the man was now dead, part of her was relieved to know he no longer suffered. She actually felt sorry for him, so young—and such a handsome man too. His short mane of black hair, large dark eyes and smooth lips… Oh, no!

  “You killed him!” Marianne’s eyes flew open. “You monster, you killed Antoine!” Horrified, she stepped back and stumbled against… “Phillip! What he’s done... This is insane!”

  He pressed her shoulder without parting his disproving stare from the murderous scene. Phillip shook his head. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I will not hear it. Not from you!” Ivan sprung off the sofa and left the room as quick as lightning. Phillip went after him.

  Marianne knelt beside Antoine. “I’m so sorry…” Why would Ivan take his life out of all the people gathered in that soiree?

  So pale his flawless skin… Antoine’s face gleamed the faint luminescence of death—his eyes opened. “What in the—?” He seized her wrist and pulled her close with unnatural strength. Marianne gasped, failing to become free from his powerful grip.

  The corner of his lips curled in a mischievous smile.

  “Antoine!” she whispered, but the fiend pulled even harder and before she knew it his fangs sank deep in her wrist. Marianne moaned, surprised but lenient to his dark wishes.

  With a voracious thirst, he drank her accursed blood. Pulse after pulse of her vital liquid streamed into his mouth in a euphoric cycle.

  A dizzying spell cautioned her of the danger in this drink. Summoning her vampiric strength, Marianne broke free from his grasp. She scrambled arms and legs on the floor until she got on her feet.

  Her heart pounding hard against her chest, Marianne stepped away from him.

  Antoine was alive… Very much so.

  “What have you done?” Phillip paced in the living room, unable to make sense of what he’d just seen in the library. “Don’t you see? This changes everything!”

  Ivan plummeted on the sofa by the hearth. He reached for the remote control over the coffee table, clicked the button, and watched the curtains roll down.

  “This should come to you as no surprise…” Ivan mused. “I told you my plans.”

  “Yes, but I never once thought you’d go through with them!” Phillip replied, leaning against the wall. “He didn’t deserve this.”

  Ivan scowled. “He didn’t deserve this?” he repeated. “You’d think becoming immortal was a curse…”

  “I never said that.”

  “What about your beloved Marianne, what was her merit for joining our sacred brethren?” raising his brow. “She didn’t deserve it, and still, you did as you pleased.”

  “Arg! Not this again!” Phillip slammed his hand against the chimney’s mantle. “Marianne was sick. She would have died had I not intervened!”

  “Oh… Saint Phillip,” Ivan mumbled, rolling his eyes back.

  “But this… This is completely different. It’s too malicious—even for you. Antoine was young, you gave him a life of wealth and success and then took it all away. How dare you play God, Ivan?”

  “Haven’t you heard? God is dead.” Ivan’s spite tainted every word that came out of his mouth. “You know nothing of Antoine or his wishes.”

  Having to listen to his maker’s constant rebuffs was unbearable enough, but for Phillip to stand here and listen to such nonsense was simply unacceptable. “Are you saying Antoine wanted it? How could he possibly know what becoming a vampire means? Whose powerful influence compelled him to want it, I wonder?”

  “He begged me for the Dark Blood for years…” his maker said, worn out. “There’s only so much pleading I can take.”

  Insulting, that’s what it was. “And that is your answer?” Phillip asked. “You turned him into a Blood Drinker because he begged you enough for it? Unbelievable!”

  “I have no mind or heart to quarrel tonight
, Phillip…” Ivan sighed. “If this is about you being an only child as a mortal—”

  How dare he bring his past life to the discussion? That was such a low blow. “This has nothing to do with me or my past. This is about you and your selfishness!”

  Ivan leaned forward. “You want to talk about selfishness? Fine.” He got on his feet. “This is what it all comes down to: Deep within your preaching heart you cannot bear being kindred to Antoine. You’ve been my sole companion for too long… Well what do you know? You’re now Blood Brothers whether you like it or not.”

  His maker’s words stunned him. For a minute there, words eluded him. “Is this your idea of punishment? he asked. “You would damn me by binding me to him forever and taking him under your wing?”

  Ivan turned his back to him. He glided his fingers through his hair and heaved a heavy sigh.

  “It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Phillip said, moving closer. “It’s because I changed Marianne against your every warning… You’ve despised me for it ever since.” He never thought he’d utter those words. For years, he’d kept them locked in his immortal heart.

  “Please, Phillip…” he said under his breath. “I could never despise you, don’t you know that? You’ve made your choices and I’ve never recriminated you for them—what do you want, Marianne? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

  She stood by the room’s threshold, biting her lower lip.

  “Is it not enough that you’ve slithered back into our lives, must you also meddle in our quarrels?” Ivan added.

  “Leave her out of this,” Phillip said.

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” Ivan replied with feigned shock. “She won’t go away.”

  “It makes no difference. There’s no point arguing now… No words can undo this evil.” Defeated, Phillip sat on the sofa. Blood Brothers, the mere thought unsettled his black heart.

  “I’d call it improvement.” Ivan returned to the seat. “But yes, there are more important matters to discuss—why are you still here, Marianne?” His fingers trembled as he ran them over his lips.