Killing Kiss

by Sam Stone

  ‘This is insane ...’

  Step by step she backs farther away, her hand reaching out like she is blind until it finds the back of the chaise and she pulls herself round, collapsing rather than sitting onto its cool leather. She buries her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees, but she doesn’t cry; merely sits. I’ve never felt so useless because I don’t know how to comfort her.

  ‘I will help you learn to adjust.’ My words sound weak even to my ears.

  ‘I don’t want your help.’

  ‘Like it or not you need me ...’

  ‘I don’t need anyone. I want out of here. NOW!’

  I walk over to the drinks cabinet; pour brandy into two glasses and hold one out to her. What else can I do?

  ‘Why didn’t I become one of your trophies?’ she asks, raising her head to look at me through her long blonde fringe.

  I push the glass into her hand because it is the only thing I can give her right now. I have nothing I can say that will make her feel better. The truth would be a very bad move.

  Chapter 17

  Walking through the town during market day was very exciting for the children. It was the first time they had ever been allowed to go in search of their own treats, armed with spending money. After six months their young lives were changed irrevocably. I was completely besotted by them and I wanted to give them everything despite Ysabelle’s worry that I was spoiling them.

  ‘God knows that Gabi is difficult enough to handle at times,’ Ysabelle sighed.

  She looked almost beautiful in her new clothes. A fine brocade and silk dress of navy and gold fitted her slender figure and although she looked her age, she certainly looked less tired and strained. Her hair was now combed and dressed in shiny curls and her once calloused hands had softened with the application of French unguents. The governess, Senora Benedictus, was having an effect on her also because I paid her to tutor Ysabelle. Perhaps one day she could find happiness in the arms of a man who loved her and maybe she would make a suitable match. After years of dedication to the children I didn’t think Ysabelle would approve of my scheme for her but maybe someday she would understand and begin to think of her own future.

  ‘Thank you, signor Gabriele.’

  Ysabelle still refused to call me by my first name alone, but a compromise had been reached that we could both live with.

  ‘What are you thanking me for?’

  ‘For everything. You have kept your word and I am so grateful for the new lives my children have.’

  Marguerite and Gabi ran in and out of the stalls with Senora Benedictus puffing to keep up.

  ‘Uncle, look at this,’ called Gabi as I smiled and waved.

  ‘Maybe one day you can repay me by calling them “our children”.’ I smiled, teasingly.

  ‘When they are older that might be possible. Adult lies are much easier to explain to adult minds. Oh look! Marguerite has found something she likes. I must go and make sure that the vendor does not try to overcharge her.’

  Ysabelle hurried away, the heels of her fine leather boots clicking on the cobbles. I was left to my own devices as I wandered through the stalls, shaking my head at the many merchants who tried to catch my attention. I mulled over her words and was glad that she was now considering it would be possible to tell the truth, at least one day.

  Distracted by a stall selling fine silks and fabrics imported from China, I drifted away from the family. As I reached the stall I admired a lilac fabric with a golden dragon design weaved into it. Ysabelle would enjoy something this sumptuous but would never ask for herself; only for Marguerite or Gabi.

  ‘How much for this roll?’ I asked and the barter began.

  As I paid and gave the address for the fabric to be delivered I glanced up over the merchant’s head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar shape. It couldn’t be! Turning my head swiftly I watched a heavily-veiled woman as she left the market and began to weave through the streets. It was the cloak that was so familiar, heavy black velvet, and I suspected it was lined with dark purple.

  Forgetting all about Ysabelle and the children, I pursued the woman; watching from afar for fear of being observed by her. My caution paid off, as only a short distance from the market, she led me straight to her home; a beautiful Palazzo of white marble in the middle of the most fashionable area of the centre of Pisa.

  Standing several houses back I watched as she strode confidently to the entrance and threw back her hood. The long gold curls, the cruel and lascivious curve of her blood red lips; just as I suspected from my first glimpse of that fragile frame. Lucrezia.

  The door of the house swung open and an aged manservant, wearing plain black, welcomed her with a tentative bow. She entered, throwing her purple gloves at the old man, which he caught deftly before quickly closing the door. I stood unobserved under the stoop of an unkempt willow, watching that closed door for several moments before I formed my plan. Then I crept silently away.

  Returning to the market, I found Ysabelle, Senora Benedictus, and the children looking around anxiously for me. ‘I went for a walk,’ I explained guiltily, but the incident was soon forgotten when Marguerite showed me her purchase, a tiny porcelain doll dressed in a white dress, all the way from Germany.

  ‘Uncle, is it not the most pretty dress you have ever seen?’ Marguerite chattered.

  ‘Beautiful,’ I agreed, but my mind was elsewhere; I had to find out more about Lucrezia and I was determined that I would pay her a visit. The next day the opportunity presented itself. Ysabelle had hired a dress maker to come and measure herself and Marguerite for dresses made from the Chinese fabric I’d purchased. Both had been ecstatic when it arrived and Ysabelle flushed with delight when she realised I had specifically purchased it for her.

  ‘There’s so much though, that I’m sure Marguerite could have something made from it too,’ she enthused. ‘Signor Gabriele, you are too kind.’

  Although I found her blush extremely charming I barely dwelled on it because I was so anxious to go in search of Lucrezia. I had to know why she left me that night. Was it because she had been disturbed and had rushed away in fright?

  Did she even know I escaped from the palace guards? Why had she not tried to find me?

  The Palazzo was quiet when I walked boldly up the short carriageway. It was a warm summer day and I made my way around the back of the house. Instinct told me that Lucrezia may not want an unexpected visit from me and therefore I decided to see if she had a family that may be embarrassed by my sudden appearance. As I walked around the house I noted the open windows on the first floor, but there was little sign of life. No chatter of working servants to give me any indication of their whereabouts. It was eerily quiet. Even the sky was devoid of life - there was to be no bird or animal life above or around the house. I felt that I had observed this strange stillness before, though I couldn’t remember where. There was a pocket of energy floating around the house that deflected life, and as I walked around the tree-lined garden walls the air was thick with the strangest aura. It was as if there was some kind of hex on the building that would discourage the living from entering.

  The back of the Palazzo was surrounded by trees and bushes which protected it from the prying eyes of its neighbours. The eight foot foliage was not a problem for me. I had already ascertained that I could leap up to roof tops with very little effort. So, I listened carefully behind the trees and leapt when I felt certain there was no one near to witness my unusual feat.

  I landed in a crouch in the middle of an ornate garden and surveyed the area - but no one was in sight. Still stooped I moved through the flower beds and found myself alongside a marble sundial with golden numerals. The dial was so beautiful that I allowed myself to be distracted by the delicately carved numbers.

  It was not quite mid morning but I observed the subtle movement of the sun o
n the carved marble.

  ‘You!’

  Lucrezia’s beautiful face faded under a large-brimmed ivory coloured hat. Shock paled her cheeks and her eyes glistened as though with tears. She was no longer in black. Her curvy, delicate figure was swathed in ivory; even her small hands were covered by ivory satin gloves and her face protected from the sun’s glare by a wispy veil that adorned the hat.

  ‘I’m sorry I startled you. I saw you in the market yesterday ...’

  ‘What ... do you want?’ Her eye lashes flicked, her face tightened; bright spots of red blossomed in the centre of her cheeks and bled into the unnatural whiteness of her skin.

  ‘I looked in Venezia for you but you had disappeared.’

  She nodded glumly.

  ‘I need to talk to you ... about that night in the Palazzo.’

  ‘Come this way. I find the heat a little intense today ... and it makes me feel ...’ She didn’t finish, merely turned around and led me into the house through the open French windows in the drawing room.

  As I entered behind her it was as though a weight lifted from me, something that I had attributed to the heaviness of the weather perhaps, but instinctively I knew better.

  ‘How odd ...’

  ‘What?’ She asked.

  ‘It seems so much less oppressive inside than out. Why is that?’

  ‘You can feel it?’ She stepped back, surprised before shaking her head as though to clear it. ‘Refreshments?’

  ‘Only if my presence will not cause you embarrassment.’

  ‘I’m long past that.’ She laughed, her voice ringing like the church bells of San Marco, and I was bewitched once again as she recovered her composure like the most practised hostess.

  She raised her tiny hand. The slight tremble in her fingers captivated me as she reached out and tugged a rope beside the empty fireplace. The bell rang through the lower levels of the house like a child’s cry in a hollow cave, drawing the quick response of male feet as the manservant entered.

  ‘Champagne for my guest.’

  The butler barely glanced in my direction as he turned and left.

  Returning quickly with the bottle and glasses on a silver tray and a fresh bowl of fruit, he served us with an odd mixture of curiosity and impassivity.

  ‘You’ve changed Gabriele,’ she said, scrutinising me carefully.

  ‘And you know why, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t. This has never happened to me before.’

  I was distracted by the butler, his feet catching lightly in the wool of the Persian rug as he shuffled to the dark oak, highly polished table, breaking the line of the pattern. I forgot to blink as she held out a glass of the poured champagne and the butler offered me the platter of fruit. I pulled myself wearily from my detail-induced trance. There was too much colour in this room, from the tiny china thimble on the table beside her to the two hand crafted cabinets and their intricate swirl pattern inlaid with gold and mother of pearl.

  ‘This is civilised,’ she said, surveying the tray after the butler left. ‘I thought you might wish to kill me. That would have been incredibly dull.’

  She sat on a pale rose chaise - a modern French design - her veiled hat thrown casually on the empty seat beside her. Sitting opposite her, I was shocked that she would think me capable of such a thing.

  ‘Why on earth would I do that? I’m like you.’

  ‘Are you?’ Her full red lips smoothed into a fine line; the light in her eyes was a shallow resonance.

  ‘I need to know how this happened.’

  She stood, walked to the open windows and breathed deeply, drawing in the scorching air. Her arms hugged her body, her shoulders bowed.

  ‘I was told I would never reproduce. I never expected this. You are an accident. And ...’ She turned back to face me, an embarrassed smile curving her lips. ‘Accidents happen. All ladies of a certain appetite know that.’

  ‘An accident? I don’t understand anything you are saying.’

  ‘Gabriele, I’m over a hundred years old.’

  ‘Impossible!’

  ‘No. It’s not. I don’t age. I can’t die. Men have tried to kill me; sometimes I’ve let them believe that they have done it. I’ve been burned as a witch and from the ashes I rose and reformed as good as new. Have you ever been hurt?’

  ‘Yes.’ My heart pounded.

  ‘And you healed? Amazing, isn’t it? After blood you grow stronger. The first taste and your muscles strengthen. The second, the mind becomes more alert and after the hundredth, you know what happens then?’ I shook my head. ‘You can fly, Gabriele.’

  ‘You’re insane.’

  ‘I’m free.’

  Her lovely breasts heaved and a surge of lust rushed through my blood. I found myself on my feet my arms reaching for her.

  ‘I can live how I choose and when you leave here so can you ...’

  She noticed my outstretched hands and, pushing them aside with a careless shrug, she sat again.

  ‘I thought ...’

  ‘What? That we could be companions? Lovers?’

  ‘Yes.’ My throat hurt.

  ‘How sweet.’

  ‘You could teach me ...’

  ‘Teach you what? I suspect by that firm flat stomach you already know how to kill and feed. Learn from your own mistakes. That is what I did.’

  I could not speak. Sex seeped from her eyes, her skin, her mouth; she dazzled me.

  ‘Tell me, what did you feel when you approached the house?’ she asked, her eyes looking deep into mine.

  ‘The air felt ... heavy. Everything was too quiet.’

  ‘Fascinating. The dead don’t usually experience the effects of the spell.’

  ‘Spell?’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t understand? I protect my lair, Gabriele, from the curiosity of mortals. Usually the atmosphere repels them so much they can’t enter. I’m surprised you were affected by it.’

  ‘You said “the dead” aren’t affected. What an odd thing to say ... I’m not dead.’

  She peered at me closely. ‘No. I think you are very much alive.’ She lapsed into thought as I began to pace the room.

  ‘I could help you. I have wealth.’

  Lucrezia cast an eye around the opulent room. ‘I need nothing.’

  ‘Surely you need a husband? We could perhaps even pretend to be brother and sister, we look enough alike ...’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But ...’

  ‘You must excuse me. I have to dress for dinner. I have an important engagement.’ She stood, brushing her bare hands - when did she remove her gloves? - down her pale dress.

  ‘What about ... ?’

  ‘I don’t need another man in my life, Gabriele. Why have one when you can try so many, each delicious? Blood is like fine wine; every bottle is grown from a different blend and mix. One day you’ll become a connoisseur. I’ve tasted you and I have to say you’ve been the most delectable so far, but ...’

  ‘You are rejecting me?’

  ‘Don’t think of it as rejection, think of it as freedom. I don’t need anything from you. You don’t need me, despite what you think now. I am the ultimate woman. You’ve had me and I want nothing in return.’

  ‘You took my blood ...’

  She paced over the rug, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘True. Though you hardly fought me, did you?’

  ‘But ... what am I to do?’

  ‘Enjoy yourself you silly boy! That’s what I do.’

  ‘I thought ... To be with another like me, not ... alone.’

  ‘We are shunned beings, Gabriele. That is why I was surprised by your sensitivity to my protective circle. We are not meant to be in ... relationships. Would you expect the Devil to have a wife
and family?’ She stopped pacing and laughed at her own joke.

  ‘Of course not. That’s why you will have difficulty walking on holy ground. Why you feel repelled by churches ...’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ I replied confused. ‘I attend mass every Sunday as I always have.’

  Lucrezia gasped at this. ‘Such sacrilege.’

  ‘Why?’

  She stared at me, horrified. ‘You really don’t know do you?’

  I shake my head. ‘All I know is that night with you changed me, irreparably and now I crave blood on occasion.’

  ‘You don’t think this makes you evil? You don’t understand why you can never have a normal life?’

  I stood paralysed, waiting on her judgment. ‘You mean ... I must remain alone?’

  ‘Well, if you try hard enough, maybe you’ll be lucky and make another, but it isn’t likely.’

  My heart sagged, but I refused to let it show.

  ‘So that’s it? You recreate me in your own image and leave me to fend completely for myself?’

  ‘How biblical of you! And you are right of course. I am a god. I am indestructible.’

  I thought that maybe her arrogance was a form of insanity so I did not reply.

  ‘Just think, you are so much luckier than most.’

  I stared at her, hurt and anger mixed together to form a confused mass in my head and heart.

  ‘Lucky? How can you say that?’

  ‘You’re alive, Gabriele. My lovers usually die. I honestly don’t know how you managed it ...’

  Chapter 18

  ‘So, I can’t see my friends and family again? But that’s bollocks. How do I live? Surely I can finish my degree?’ She looks at me incredulously. ‘These days it must be easier. Twenty years from now, I just go around telling everyone I had plastic surgery.’

  I laugh at the thought. There is nothing plastic about Lilly’s assets, but her serious expression stops me.

  ‘It doesn’t work. I’ve tried it. A few years you can do it. Then you have to gradually retrieve yourself from people’s lives. It’s just asking for more pain.’