Past Life

by C S Winchester

  “This is not your fault!” she reiterated. “If you hadn't fed from me, we'd probably both still be there.”

  “But I couldn't stop,” he said, reaching one hand out and softly caressing her cheek, as though she were made of the finest china. “I haven't felt hunger like that in centuries and the thought that I might have-”

  “Shh,” she cut him off with a finger over his lips. She then took his hand in both of hers. “All's well that ends well, Mum used to say. Maybe you'd prefer it if I was shouting and yelling at you but right now, I'm just glad that you're okay. That we're both okay.”

  He stared at her for a moment and finally nodded.

  “Okay, you win; I won't say anything else about it-”

  “Good,” she smiled.

  “If you take some of my blood.”

  She looked as though she were about to argue but his expression was firm.

  “All right, fine, but just a little.”

  Dante went to bite his wrist but, Frankie put her hand on his arm to stop him. With her lying and he sitting it would be awkward, so she flipped the other side of the quilt down and gestured for him to get in.

  Dante looked a little hesitant.

  “Frankie, uh... blood and... well, sex don't always have to-”

  Frankie laughed, which rather spoilt his magnanimous mood.

  “You're cute but you're not that cute,” she smiled. “Even when I'm back to normal, somehow I think I'll manage to resist you.”

  Dante just stared at her for a moment until she stopped laughing.

  “I'm sorry,” she apologised. “You were just so earnest, I couldn't resist. Come on, you'll be taking the bed soon anyway so I just thought it would be easier if we were on the same level. And besides, you own me an explanation, remember, and I'm guessing that won't be a quick tale.”

  Agreeing with her, he nodded.

  “Will it cause a misunderstanding if I take my shoes off first?” he gently teased.

  “No. In fact, removal of all clothes, except boxers, is allowable.”

  “How do you know I wear boxers?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

  “Let's just say, I got to see more than I wanted to when I touched the bed in your apartment.”

  “And did you like what you saw?”

  “Eh, I'd give you a five, I guess. If I'm being generous.” Frankie smiled.

  “Out of?” he asked, suspicious of her words.

  “Ten, of course.”

  Dante laughed, pleased that the tension seemed to have broken. He stood up and began to undress as he walked around the bed.

  “That's what you say now,” he told her. “But if I wake up to find we're spooning, I'm taking a picture and putting it on Facebook.”

  “I don't have Facebook.” Frankie laughed.

  “Twitter then.”

  “I don't tweet.”

  “You are aware that it's the twenty first century, right?” he asked as he climbed in beside her.

  “Yes, I just don't see the point in being a twit,” she said as he made himself comfortable.

  He brought his wrist to his lips and bit down; Frankie raised herself up a little and when he offered her the wrist, she put her lips to the wound and swallowed a few mouthfuls.

  “That's enough,” she said, pushing his arm away.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Dante licked the excess blood from his wrist until the wound closed.

  “What's up?” he asked.

  “Nothing's up,” she said, turning onto her side to face him.

  “I know you've taken vampire blood before so why are you so hesitant now? It's not like it's addictive or dangerous.”

  “I just...” she looked into his eyes for a long moment before seemingly deciding to trust him. “The last person who gave me blood was Josh. I know it's stupid but somehow taking it from someone else just seems... callous, somehow.”

  “It's not stupid,” he said. “I know that he loved you, but I didn't realise that you cared so much for him.”

  “That's just it, I'm honestly not sure how I feel about him. I do care about him, or at least I did but...”

  “Shh,” he urged as she struggled to explain her feelings. Josh had told Dante about Frankie's dating history, which basically consisted of one relationship. As strong and brave as she was, when it came to relationships she was like a teenager; floundering in new waters and trying to make sense of how she felt. Dante hadn't understood what he meant but now he could see for himself. She didn't understand it, maybe she felt guilty about it since she'd been dating Alex at the time, but she had loved Josh as well, or at the very least, cared deeply for him.

  “You don't have to explain yourself to me,” he said, smiling. “But Josh is more than just one moment. I'm not saying it was unimportant, but it was just one memory.”

  “That's easy for you to say, you have four lifetimes of memories. I only knew him for a few months.”

  “But he allowed you to see a part of him that hardly anyone else got to see. He wasn't just the badass that most people think; underneath that he was a warm and caring man. He showed you his heart and let you see him when he was vulnerable. Remember that, because that's who he really was.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

  “The bruise on your throat has gone already,” he said.

  “I can feel,” she said, smiling slightly. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  “Now, I think you owe me a story.”

  “Ah,” his easy countenance fled, to be replaced by a rather haunted look. “Where to start?” he asked himself.

  “Try the beginning,” she said. “I've got time.”

  “That would be the orphanage,” he began. “I had a brother there; we were found together, he was about two, I was thought to be just under a year old. Our parents were never found so the monks named us Francesco and Dante. I don't remember any of this, of course, but Francesco filled in the gaps for me over the years. We both looked very similar, but we were as different as night and day in our temperament. I was always fighting, arguing, pushing the boundaries. Francesco was much quieter, content to go unnoticed and blend in.

  “When I decided to leave, I asked him to come with me but he always refused, so finally I went without him. I think he was afraid of what the brothers would do if they caught us. I wanted to go back and check on him so many times but I was afraid of being caught too, so I stayed away and then after I met Josh, we moved so that the monks couldn't find me. I sent Francesco a letter to let him know that I was safe and being cared for, but obviously I couldn't include a return address.

  “Josh still had contacts in the town so I heard news of important events, like when he got married, but it was always just the barest of details. These days I could just follow him on Twitter, but back then communication was so slow that it was almost impossible to keep track of him. Then, about seventy years after I had left, I decided to go back. I thought that Francesco would be dead by then, but perhaps I could find someone to tell me about his life. I had left town before puberty hit, so I knew that I wasn't in much danger of being recognised as that boy.”

  Dante's eyes were staring over Frankie shoulder, off into the distant past and a smiled graced his lips as he continued.

  “By some miracle he was still alive. Very frail and half-blind but he was still alive. I couldn't tell him who I really was, so I told him that I was Dante's grandson. He was so pleased to see me; wanted to know all about what I had been up to, if I had ever married, if I was happy. His wife had died a few years earlier but he introduced me to his seven children, his grandchildren and he even had two great-grandchildren. He had told them a lot of stories about me over the years, and the adventurous life I had led; there was very little truth to his tales, of course, but I went along with it.”

  Frankie was beginning to wonder what this had to do with Pietro when he finally got to the point.

  �
�I suppose I was so happy to see him again, to be around family for the first time in decades, that I was a little indiscreet. Francesco's youngest son in particular, took a real shine to me and I to him. He would come and visit me in my rooms during the day and he asked so many questions about my 'grandfather'. I should have spotted the signs earlier, but I'm ashamed to say that I overlooked any flaws in his character. I looked more like his son than his uncle, but that didn't stop how I felt about him. I never had my own family, so this relationship was priceless to me.”

  Dante fell silent then, his smile long since gone as he prepared to tell her the rest of the tale.

  “How long did you stay for?” Frankie asked when he hadn't spoke for a long while.

  Dante looked at her, as though only just noticing that she was still here.

  “Two years.”

  That surprised Frankie, she had been expecting to hear a few months, not years.

  “I settled there,” he explained. “I wanted to be with my brother until he died and I had a few scores to settle with the monks. Pietro eventually became my day man and I trusted him with my true identity. Of course I made sure that he couldn't tell anyone else, just as I did with Will but...” he sighed deeply. “But it didn't matter, he didn't need to tell anyone else.

  “It turned out that I had been blind to his true nature. He was sadistic, evil, cruel, and had been developing a love of the dark arts long before I returned. Somehow I found excuses for the few incidents I witnessed, but mostly he was a good actor. I don't know how long he had been planning it but a few days after my brother died, he knocked me unconscious and took me to a room he had prepared for me.”

  “How could he overpower you?” Frankie asked.

  “Simple, he came up behind me and hit me over the head. I trusted him, I had no reason to fear him. The room he took me to had been rigged with a lever and pulley system, which allowed him to drop rocks on my head from a distance, knocking me out cold while he drained me of my blood.”

  He fell silent again and Frankie squeezed his hand.

  “The first time I woke up I was shackled with silver cuffs, I had a pounding headache and hardly a drop of blood left, I still didn't understand what was happening... He'd left a woman in there with me, her hands were securely tied behind her back so that she couldn't free me. I compelled her to try, obviously, but it was impossible. Instead I fed from her to heal myself so that I might stand a better chance of escaping. I had never known hunger like it, but I managed not to kill her.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then a boulder rigged to the contraption on the ceiling dropped and knocked me out again. When I came to, the girl was dead on the floor and once again, I had barely a drop of blood left in me. There were two women this time, I guess that perhaps I hadn't taken enough from one person to heal properly? I don't really know. Again I tried to get them to free me but it was impossible. Still not understanding what had happened, I fed again.”

  “Couldn't you smell Pietro?”

  “I could, but I didn't believe he was behind it; I thought that perhaps he was another victim. The boulder fell again soon afterwards and when I woke up, I was free.”

  “And the other two women?”

  “Dead. And brutalised. I hid the bodies then returned to my rooms to find that Pietro had left me a note, explaining that the ritual was to give him eternal life.”

  “Why didn't he kill you?” Frankie asked, trying not to sound insensitive.

  “Because the ritual bound him to me; as long as I live, so will he.”

  “Is that why you didn't go after him, because you can't kill him?”

  “Who said I didn't go after him? I tried for many years, but his note said that he was concealing his location using witchcraft. It must have been very effective, because I never found him. A few times I had good leads but Pietro was always gone by the time I got there.”

  “What were you going to do if you did catch up to him?”

  “Kill him. As well as what he'd done to me, I knew those women and they didn't have to die.”

  “But you can't kill him.” Frankie's voice was getting louder.

  “The ritual bound Pietro to me, not the other way around,” Dante reassured her, “If I die, he dies but if he dies, nothing happens to me.”

  “Thank God!” Frankie breathed a sigh of relief.

  Dante wanted to lighten the mood with a quip, 'I never knew you cared,' or something along those lines, but he couldn't. She seemed genuinely pleased that he wasn't in danger and he couldn't ruin her mood.

  “So what happens now?” Frankie asked. “Does this ritual need repeating every hundred years or something?”

  “No. At least it shouldn't. I did as much research as I could on the possible rituals he used and it should be a one-time-only deal.”

  “Then why is he back?” Frankie asked.

  “I have no idea. Perhaps he performed the original spell incorrectly, or perhaps there are some cosmic forces that govern magic. Maybe three hundred years was an eternity to whomever wrote the spell.

  “Okay but why you? Why doesn't he choose another vampire?”

  “Because the rituals must be performed on blood kin, another vampire's blood wouldn't be any good to him.”

  Frankie looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I just can't figure out why a spell like that would even exist. I mean honestly, how many vampires out there make themselves known to their living relatives?”

  “Not many,” Dante agreed. “In fact though I researched extensively, I couldn't find one similar. It seems that the spell he must have used is a kind of amalgam. The half to increase life expectancy is usually performed on anyone and simply steals their life force, making them die much sooner than they would have naturally, while the witch gets to live a longer life. The second half is most likely a binding ritual, binding my life force to Pietro's. He's like a parasite, living off my energy.

  “But doesn't that do you any harm?” she asked.

  “It doesn't seem to have done so far.”

  “But he'll try again, won't he? From the impressions I've got off the things he touched, I think he's been searching for you for a while now.”

  “I could just leave until he dies,” Dante suggested, though he had no intention of doing any such thing.

  “But we don't even know why he needs you. Maybe something has gone wrong and the original spell was broken, meaning that he'll die soon, or it could be something new. Maybe this time he wants your speed and strength or something.”

  “Unfortunately there's no way to tell.”

  “Until we catch him,” Frankie added.

  “Tell me you're not going after him yourself?” Dante asked, but he could already tell that was exactly what she planned.

  “I have to. Besides, you're the one he wants, you should stay as far away from this investigation as possible.”

  Ever since the day Pietro had freed him centuries ago, the images of those three girls who had been brutally murdered (and God only knew what else) had haunted him. Now though, there was a fourth girl in his mind, who wore Frankie's face.

  “Look, Frankie, I know I can't tell you what to do but please, don't go after him on your own.”

  Frankie looked mutinous for a moment then finally nodded.

  “Okay, deal,” she agreed, though not very graciously. She had every intention of sticking with her case though, she'd just take Will along for the ride in daylight hours.

  Just then she heard her parents moving about in the next room.

  “My folks are about, I'd better get up,” she said with a sigh.

  “Are you sure you don't need more sleep?”

  “I'm fine,” she smiled. “Now you get some sleep.”

  Frankie let go of Dante's hand and slipped out of the bed.

  “Call me when you're awake again.” She smiled as she pulled on her robe and headed out of the room.

  Frankie managed to d
own a mug of coffee before her mother bustled into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, darling,” Cecilia smiled.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I'm fine, honestly.”

  “Good,” she smiled as she sat opposite her daughter. “I wanted to speak to you, actually. I had a word with your father last night after we went to bed, and we've decided to move into a hotel.”

  “The damage is done, Mum, you might as well stay.”

  “Damage?” her mother sounded confused.

  “Yes, damage. You and Dad have left memories on everything you've touched since you got here, this was the only mug I found that you hadn't touched.”

  “Yes, well.” Clearly her mother was still having a hard time accepting Frankie's gift as real. “We didn't know, did we.”

  Frankie supposed that was as close to an apology as she was going to get. She was tempted to say 'only because you didn't want to know,' but she held her tongue. Accusations wouldn't help anyone.

  “So you wouldn't mind if we stayed?” her mother checked.

  “No, mum. But next time, you had better give me notice.”

  “We will, darling.”

  Frankie smiled and went to make herself a fresh mug of coffee.

  “Where is your friend?” Cecilia asked.

  “Dante? He's asleep.”

  “I didn't see him in the living room.”

  “He's in my bed, Mum, but don't worry, nothing happened.”

  “So you can share your possessions with some people then?” she sounded affronted.

  “Dante's not like most people, Mum. He doesn't leave psychic impressions behind.”

  Cecilia tried to stifle the scoff that escaped her but she wasn't entirely successful. Frankie sat back down opposite her.

  “Mum, I know that this is hard for you to accept, but there are a lot of things on this earth that are even weirder than I am.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I'm trying to say that Dante is one of those things.”

  “Then what is he?”

  “That's up to him to tell you if he wants to but believe me, there is a whole spectrum of life just beyond what most people can see. Witches and demons and shapeshifters and zombies and ghosts... all sorts.”