Gift of the Nightflyer

by Sultry Summers

  “Leslie!” Count Magonoff’s voice broke the silence like the crack of a rifle.

  Jamie was lying on the cold tiles of the terrace and Leslie was bent over him at his crotch. When Ignatio called her name her head snapped up, blood dripping from her fangs her eyes dilated, her facial features cold and pale, made even more so by the red contrast of the blood on her mouth. He watched as she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand and licked away the precious liquid as a cat would lick her paws. Ignatio hated her at that moment. He had seen her feed before, many times. Never on an innocent and he knew what she had done to get Jamie to that point. She had betrayed him. She had beguiled Jamie; this wasn’t his fault.

  Recent memory of Leslie’s wandering eyes at the gathering earlier reminded Ignatio of what he had known for sometime, that Leslie would soon betray him, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “What have you done, Leslie?” Ignatio demanded. “Have you killed him?”

  Leslie, still somewhat caught in the feeding fever, hissed then caught herself, straightening she stood. “Of course not!” She looked at him coldly. “He was gentle,” she proclaimed accusingly, referring to Ignatio’s more aggressive style of lovemaking.

  “And that is your reason to take his life?” Ignatio asked.

  “I had no intention of killing him.” Leslie stated.

  “Were you intending to give him your gift also?” Ignatio laughed coldly.

  “Possibly,” she said haughtily, unrepentantly.

  “Leslie,” Ignatio’s voice was cold as the winters in the mountains, “leave us. Go to our room and wait for me there. He is beginning to awaken, if we are lucky he will not remember any of this. I will deal with you later.” Leslie drew herself up and swept past the Count with her head smugly in the air.

  “Jamie, my friend!” the Count said after he had quickly closed up his pants. “You slipped and bumped your head, are you, alright?”

  “Yes, I think so?” Jamie said, a little unsure of himself and weak from the loss of blood.

  “Slowly, my friend, slowly,” the Count said as he helped Jamie to his feet, and eased him down to sit on one of the benches. “Let me get you some brandy.” The Count left, shortly returning with a brandy for each of them. They talked for a little while until Jamie had regained his strength, then Count helped him to his room. “You should be fine by morning. Sleep in, Jamie, I will tell the housekeeper not to disturb you.”

  Margaret awakened when the door opened. “Jamie?” she said sleepily. “What has happened?”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs and out onto the terrace, I slipped and hit my head. Luckily, the Count found me and brought me up.” Jamie explained.

  “Mrs. Stuart, he should be fine by morning.” The Count told her, drinking in every ounce of her body dressed only in a cotton shift, her long red hair flowing down around her hips, the look of love for her husband in her beautiful green eyes almost causing his heart to break. Then he remembered what Leslie had almost done. “I must go now.” He closed the door, leaving Margaret to tend to Jamie.

  Ignatio went back down to the salon and poured himself another brandy. Unusual though it was for a vampire to retain the desire and ability to drink anything other than blood, Ignatio still loved brandy and occasionally wine. He drank one glass straight down then another, his anger becoming greater than he could tolerate. Leslie! He had only wanted her love, not this accursed gift. A home, a wife and family, he had lands, he had money and a title. Now he had only eternity to spend with a cheating bitch such as her. No! He would not do it with her. With resolve in his soul-less heart he climbed the grand staircase to their bedroom.

  Leslie had bathed and changed her clothes. She was all sweetness and desirable. She came to him and slowly encircled his neck with her long, slender arms.

  “What took you so long, Ignatio?” she asked the fire of desire clear in her eyes. She had come to love his sadistic lovemaking, even though still longing for a tender touch too

  He looked down at her, disgust in his heart, the picture of how she looked at him when he had called her name, as she bent over Jamie still fresh in his mind. Ignatio reached up and took both of her arms from around his neck. He smiled at her, a cold smile, but Leslie was blind to it.

  “Come with me, Leslie, I have something I wish to show you.” Ignatio told her.

  “What is it?” She asked with a smile.

  “A special place in the manor you have never visited before. You will like this place, come along.” Ignatio took her by the hand. At the end of the hallway on their wing of the manor was a trick door. He depressed the hidden lock and they climbed the stairs. Leslie found they were in the open tower at the top of the manor. He was right, she had seen the tower from outside, but one would never guess it was actually in use. High atop the four stories of the manor was an old observation tower. At one time, it was used to watch for invaders or visitors coming, so that the castle, as it was then, would not be surprised. “I thought this would be a grand place to make love.” He saw her eyes flash, eager for sex.

  “Oh yes, Ignatio, but another time, the dawn comes soon.” Leslie agreed.

  “I know.” Ignatio said and drew her closer to kiss her. He felt her relax, lost in their love play and it was then that he slipped the rope he had brought with him around her small waist. She had come to enjoy being tied before they had sex.

  “What game is this?” She asked with a sparkle in her eyes. Ignatio kissed her again and pushed her against the support in the center of the observation tower quickly securing the rope to the support. “Ignatio,” she said when he stepped back, “what are you doing?”

  “Leslie, you swore to stay with me, and be true to me. I have watched you with the others in our small group of, shall we say, peers. It is clear you will not honor those vows. It is also clear this gift as you call it is nothing more than a curse. I have lost my soul because of you and any chance of happiness as a normal man. I will not allow you to do this to another man. Today, my dear, you will see your last sunrise. I hope it is a beautiful one. Goodbye, Leslie.” Ignatio left her and went back down the darkened stairs into the manor.

  Leslie finally stopped screaming. She knew Ignatio would not come back for her. Entranced, she watched the sky brighten. How many years had it been, she asked herself, since she had seen a sunrise? In a flash, she remembered her childhood, when she had gotten up early to run outside and watch the sun come up. Bright reds and gold filled the sky then would come mauves and blues, if she lived to see the blue. A slight crescent appeared just above the distant mountains. Absently she wondered if she would feel pain. Leslie attempted a prayer, but it had been over two hundred years since she had said a prayer and she really could not remember how. How many souls she had taken with her gift since then she could not recall. A prayer from her childhood came to mind…

  Suddenly blackness surrounded Leslie. She screamed again one horrible last scream. A heavy dark blanket was placed over her. The rope around her waist was slit. At first, she thought Ignatio had come back for her, but no, he could not have taken the sunlight anymore than she could have.

  “Carloff?” Leslie asked, her voice a hoarse, shocked whisper.

  “Yes, milady, I will get you into the darkness.” Leslie felt Carloff lift her off her feet and take her into the darkness of the passageway, holding her safe in his massive, muscular arms.

  Chapter Six

  Count Ignatio Magonoff turned and walked back down the stairs. Leslie’s screams and cries echoing in his ears, but no one else would hear her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the sun had just begun to light the sky. He opened the panel, stepped into the main house, and went to his bedroom. He bathed and prepared for bed, expectantly. Suddenly his head snapped up. He heard her one last horrible scream. She was gone at last. Lady Leslie Ann Romanoffski, who was over two hundred years old, was at peace.

  Jamie sat straight up in bed at that moment, because Leslie had taken his blood, he too ha
d heard her horrible cry and awakened from a sound sleep. He did not know what had awakened him, or its source, frightening though it was, in the swirling and dark mists that claimed it. He decided that he had had a dream. Jamie attributed his shaking to the inexplicable dream of a woman’s screaming at the point of sunrise and it had left him feeling unsettled. Margaret stirred when he rose from bed.

  “Jamie,” she said, sleep heavy in her voice, “what ‘tis wrong?”

  “Nothing, lass, go back to sleep,” Jamie told her. He stood before the window looking out over the mountains. A red disk burned through the mountain’s mist in the sky, as if it warned of events to come. Jamie stood before the window and watched the sun begin to brighten the day.

  Count Magonoff climbed into his now solitary bed and it struck him that he did not miss Leslie. He drew his first peaceful breath in many months. He was a wealthy—man. Was that the correct term, he wondered? Perhaps he could manage a way to return to some of his old ways. Ignatio was hopeful, but deep inside he knew it wasn’t possible, but he allowed a false hope to lull him to sleep.

  Margaret was fully awake now, more accustomed to getting up early than late in the day. “What woke you, Jamie?” she asked, lovingly running her soft hands over his naked broad shoulders. Jamie drew her hands to his lip, kissing them and looked down into her green eyes.

  “Margaret,” Jamie said quietly to his wife, “there is something very strange about this house and that man. I wish me old mother were here. She’d know what it was that is not just right.” Jamie commented. “I can almost hear her voice, but I can’t understand her words. Count Magonoff has a powerful presence. Almost,” Jamie’s voice dropping off, a far away look came over his face. “I wish to leave here as soon as it is possible,” he announced. “I wonder why it has taken their man, ah, Carloff, so long to change that wheel.”

  “He could not find the correct one to fit it,” Margaret said, her voice sounding tight.

  “Are you alright?” Jamie said, going to stand next to her.

  “Yes, just the wee one moving about,” she assured him. She struggled to remain standing without Jamie’s assistance. “I need to go outside for some air.” Jamie escorted her outside into the morning air.

  After a short time Jamie escorted Margaret back inside and told her, “I am going down to the stables and have a look at our carriage, perhaps I can get it back on the road again.” He kissed her lips. “You are to stay inside lest you catch a chill, my love.” Jamie left her alone, but not before he assembled several books from the Count’s library for Margaret to amuse herself with reading and placed her sewing nearby. Margaret was well attended by the household’s small staff and the day grew late.

  Count Magonoff’s mood had been dark when he awoke and had forgotten his houseguests when he strode boldly into the salon. His disposition was so black that he startled the Scottish girl badly, causing her to drop her sewing when she stood. His eyes glanced over her and instantly remembered her and those spring-green eyes. She stood, unsteady before him, one hand beneath her rounded stomach, supporting her unborn child.

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Stuart,” the Count immediately apologized. “I had forgotten your presence.”

  Her face pale, she drew a quick breath, “‘Tis understandable that you would forget with your wife missing. Your housekeeper told us earlier,” Margaret said simply, not realizing she had begun to tremble, until her child moved and she cried out.

  One of the many attributes gained from Ignatio’s change was the ability to move quickly, so fast, in fact, that the Count could appear as a shimmering blur. In such a blur, he stood beside Margaret, to lend her his great strength and support her before she could collapse. Gently, he eased her back to the chair that she had been sitting in.

  “Where is your husband, Mrs. Stuart?” Ignatio inquired in a gentle voice.

  “He is in the stables. He went to repair the carriage,” Margaret told him, breathless.

  “My wife has gone to visit her family,” he said in a tone to soothe Margaret and to distract her from the show of his abilities.

  Ignatio had not fed this night but that could be put off. His attraction to Margaret went past his need for food–he had fallen in love with her. His feelings went deeper than they had for Leslie. Ignatio looked into her eyes, concern for her and her unborn child growing in them. He loved her more than he had his first wife and that realization came as a blow that almost knocked the air from him.

  “I will go and get your husband,” Ignatio said, watching her face grow paler.

  “Wait, don’t leave me alone,” Margaret begged. She was terribly frightened. The child was moving violently.

  Her closeness was becoming unbearable to Ignatio. He wanted to kiss her and was disgusted with himself at the thought. What had this gift done to him? She was another man’s wife. She was heavy with that man’s child and possibly going into early labor.

  Faintly, Margaret laid her head on his shoulder. Ignatio could smell her blood and hear her pulse. He prayed for strength and wondered if God would hear his plea. It was too much, the temptation too great. As gently as he would take the virginity of a beloved bride, his fangs pierced her neck, causing her no pain but a sigh of pleasure. The child quieted when her anxiety eased. Ignatio barely drew any of her life’s blood, only a slight sip then he withdrew. He touched the two tiny marks with his finger and they closed to blend with the freckles on her fair neck. Margaret slept quietly, peacefully. The Count drew several locks of her beautiful long red hair over the tiny new freckle-marks on her white neck. He went to fetch the housekeeper to sit with her until he could get Margaret’s husband.

  Jamie came at once to his wife’s aid. Margaret awoke to smile into his face. Jamie carried her to bed and came back down to speak with the Count.

  “I say,” Jamie addressed Ignatio, “I am grateful you were here to care for Maggie.”

  “I had only just come down,” the Count explained. “I fear it was I who startled her and set the episode in motion.”

  “This last month has been stressful for the lass.” Jamie sighed sadly, “I was hoping to get back home before the child’s birth, but now I don’t know?”

  “You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish,” Ignatio told him.

  “Thank you lord Count, but you have your own problems. What word of your Lady, sir?” Jamie asked.

  “Lady Leslie has gone to visit with her family, she sent word earlier,” Ignatio made an excuse.

  “No problems I hope?” Jamie asked in a concerned tone.

  “No, nothing serious,” he lied. “Did you have any success with your carriage, I am sorry my man could not get it repaired for you.”

  “Yes, the wheel is back on and sturdy, but it will depend on Margaret’s condition now,” Jamie explained. “I’ll be going up now. I don’t want to leave her alone too long. Goodnight Count.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Leslie sat securely wrapped in the heavy blanket Carloff had covered her with, to protect her from the sun. His strong arms held her close to his broad chest as she wept. Carloff would protect his Lady from any harm, including the most recent man she had chosen to bestow her gift on, Count Magonoff. Carloff had known from the first day, that the man was not worth her attentions, but she was his mistress, he loved her and would do her bidding. Her tears had subsided and only an occasional sob racked her body now.

  “Do not fear, Lady Leslie,” he assured her, “you are safe here. I will not allow him to harm you should he come here.”

  “Carloff,” Leslie looked at him through her tears, “you have always been so loyal, so obedient and,” her soft hand touched his cheek “such a comfort and gentle whenever I’ve needed you.” She smiled sadly, “Perhaps I’ve always looked too far for my mates.”

  Carloff was embarrassed and cleared his throat. “You are my Mistress, I am yours. You know this, milady.” For one of the few times he met her eyes. “You should rest, my Lady.”

  When at l
ast she slept, he gently laid her on a landing where she would not roll down the steps and went to check how late the day had grown. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was no longer clear. In another two hours, if the sky stayed overcast, Carloff would be able to sneak his Lady from the secret passage and safely whisk her away in her carriage that he had sequestered in the dense forest. He returned to sit with her and possibly sleep a little himself. He knew the Count would not be up-and-about until later, when the day was done and the sun was set. Until then, they should be safe.

  Leslie’s internal time clock was set on a vampire’s true need for darkness and feeding. She awoke with a start, remembering the events leading up to her present situation. Anger flared deep inside her being. She had given the proud and arrogant Count Ignatio Magonoff the greatest gift, that to her, anyone could give someone, immortality! He had taken her gift, then turned on her. She had seen the way he looked at the pregnant Scottish woman. Would Ignatio take a woman about to give life? Leslie wondered.

  Leslie’s eyes fell on Carloff, asleep from exhaustion. He is younger than I look but only by a year of two. Leslie thought as she ran her fingers through his white blonde hair and watched him while he slept. In reality, Leslie was over two hundred years old. Carloff is so handsome, she thought, and he has more than once proven his loyalty. Today he risked his life to save mine. Leslie gazed at him. She smoothed his blonde hair from his face. He would be a deserving partner to go through life with.

  Leslie realized that she had found a warm place in her heart for him. She also thought that never had she seen a mean side to him. When he had satisfied her needs, he had always been gentle and serviced her well. We’ve never made love, she thought, it has always been just…sex. Now her curiosity was peeked. How would he make love? Leslie caressed his body gently, so as not to awaken him, her sexual appetite aroused. Sudden noises from inside the manor drew her attention away from her thoughts of her newly found love.