by Greg Hair
Reaching the tiny group of strangers, Landon reached out his hand.
“Landon Murphy,” he said. “And you are?”
“Friends,” said the only female, taking his hand. “I’m Piper.”
“You’re English. What are you doing way down here?”
“Are you taking the piss? Brits can’t holiday in Italy? Look, we were in the area when we saw the video. We heard of you, and we know who Nicholas is. Word spread about Burghausen and we got wind that you chaps set up camp here. So here we are.”
“Okay,” he said, his hand letting go of hers, as he looked at her small band. “Great. Thanks. What video?”
“You must be joking. You haven’t seen it? Got a computer?”
“We’ll have to go across the water,” said LillyAnna. “What’s it of?”
“Can’t explain, ma’am,” said another from the group. “You’ll have to see it for yourself. But, it’s why we’re here.”
Landon motioned for the group to enter a gondola, when Catalina came running up.
“Landon, I got the international manhunt called off. Wasn’t easy, but they’re not after you anymore.”
“Really? That’s great,” he said. “Thanks, Catalina. How’d you do it?”
“Like I said,” she began, seemingly annoyed at the prospect of having to explain the process she went through, “it wasn’t easy. Seamus and Jacob’s connections at Langley said they’ll get the word out. They want us to take care of Nicholas as soon as possible, though.”
“How do they know about Nicholas? We haven’t told them.”
“I don’t know really. Something about a video.”
Landon looked back at the gondola’s passengers, all looking at him with a told-you-so stare.
“Okay. I gotta go. Thanks, Cat.”
Reaching a plaza on the other side of the lagoon, Landon, LillyAnna, and their guests climbed out of the boat, and headed toward the nearest wi-fi connected café.
“Is it that bad?” asked LillyAnna, taking a seat at a small, blue, round table under a green umbrella, shielding her from the bright, golden, Italian sun that washed over the city.
“Just watch,” said Piper.
The computer wirelessly connected, Piper swiftly navigated to the posted video.
Landon and LillyAnna watched, their jaws dropped, in horror at the scene that unfolded on the screen. For several minutes they said not a word, Landon never taking his eyes away. LillyAnna, turned her head, and never looked back, once the carnage began.
Landon noticed over his shoulder, the stares of passers-by, locals and tourists, that noticed the video and the horror onscreen. Some gasped audibly, others brushed it off as something some kid created in his parents’ basement. A couple of teenagers gave the obligatory ‘cool’ reaction, which Landon clearly understood, even though it was in Italian.
“Oh my God,” Landon said, once it was all over. “People are watching this?”
“Yeah,” said Piper. “But, if you read the comments posted with it, unless you’re one of us, no one seems to be taking it seriously. It’s getting a lot of positive reaction.”
“Positive reaction?” LillyAnna asked, appearing disgusted by the banality of humanity.
“Well, people seem to think it’s not real. That it’s a trailer for a new movie, or something. Like the kids that passed by here a moment ago. They think it’s cool. They don’t understand that those people they’re watching are really dying. And that’s not their fault; we’ve kept our world from them. We have become the product of Hollywood, when the truth is that it’s the other way around.”
“That’s a good thing, though” Landon said. “We don’t need a panic.”
LillyAnna turned away again, looking out over the shimmering canal.
“What’s Bianca gonna do when she finds out Jamie’s married her sister?” she asked.
“She’s not going to find out,” said Landon, standing and closing the laptop. “We’re not going to tell her. The stress may harm the babies.”
“What are you two talking about?” asked Piper.
“It’s complicated,” said Landon.
“Look at what Nicholas has done to the sanctity of marriage,” said LillyAnna. “Look at what he’s done to the ceremony itself. He’s completely marred everything it stands for.”
“No, he hasn’t,” Landon said. “He hasn’t done a damn thing to marriage or the ceremony. What they did, before everything took place, only affects them. It has absolutely nothing to do with any other married couple.”
“Sorry, honey, but you wouldn’t know. You’re not married.” She breathed a heavy sigh.
Landon stood there, alternating his gaze between the setting sun and LillyAnna, until he finally locked his eyes on her, not turning away.
“Piper,” he began, “I need you guys to take a ride back to Poveglia. Lilly and I will be back soon.”
“What are we doing?” LillyAnna asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you want us to do once we get there?” asked Piper.
“Tell people what you’ve seen on the video. Tell them I’ve seen it, and I’ll be back shortly. But, find Catalina, the one that stopped me before I got in the gondola, and tell her to make sure that Bianca doesn’t hear anything about the wedding. Make sure Jacinda and Connor know that, too.” He noticed the puzzled look on the British werewolf’s face. “Just ask around for them. It’s a small island.”
Landon, taking her by the hand, led LillyAnna to a different gondola. After whispering in the boatman’s ear, the vessel pushed off, and began its journey.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere where I can prove to you that some things still matter. A place where the ideals that you care about still exist.”
Their gondola drifted through the waves of plucking mandolins and Venetian serenades swept along by the romantic, physical exchanges of tourists and locals alike.
Landon and LillyAnna’s boatman pushed them along, making eye contact with the elder werewolf periodically, seeming to check if the male paramour would like to have their own personal concert. Landon shook his head each time.
As the vessel traversed the waterways, the couple watched the bustling plazas—the shops, restaurants, and cafes. Landon and LillyAnna observed the street musicians, the dancers, the painters, and the obvious drunk study-abroad college students.
LillyAnna reclined into Landon, and he held her close, running his hand up and down her arm.
“I’m feeling better,” she said.
“Good. I’m happy to hear that. I’m happy to be here, in Venice, with you. There are some magical places here, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to capture some of the magic from one special place tonight.”
Turning a corner, the gondola slipped into a small, watery alleyway, slowed, and came to a stop.
“Do you know where we are?” Landon asked.
“No.”
“Look up.”
Above their heads, spanning two buildings, was a bridge. The various faces that jutted from the bottom stared back at the couple.
“This is the Bridge of Sighs,” he began. “It connects the Doge’s Palace to what was once the prison. It got its name from the thought that those prisoners, who were led from one side to the other, would look out through the bridge’s windows and sigh at their last sight of their beloved city, before being ushered to dark cells below. All hope they had was left with that view.
“But, now, a legend says that when a couple kisses under the Bridge of Sighs, at sunset, their love will last forever.”
LillyAnna looked back toward the setting sun. Landon put his hand to her soft cheek, turning her back to face him.
“I want to give you hope again from hopelessness. That seems to be what we keep doing for each other, and I cannot think of a better definition for love. I love you. I have nothing, not even a ring. I have no fortune to give you.”
He watched her start crying, uncontrol
lably, as he continued.
“There is nothing special about me. I have countless faults, and I honestly don’t know why you stand by me. But, I don’t have to understand, I just have to accept. You bring life to this empty, broken shell of a man. I love you, LillyAnna.”
Rocking the gondola back and forth, Landon stood, then dropped to one knee. He looked into her brown eyes like he was staring into her soul.
“I love you, and want to spend the rest my life, however long that is, with you. You are the best parts of me that I will never be. LillyAnna McCourt, will you marry me?”
Any mortal man would have asked LillyAnna to repeat her answer, unable to discern what she said through her soft, quiet voice, and the sobbing, but Landon Murphy, with his heightened hearing, heard that most important word he waited for.
“Yes.”
Chapter 12: Requiem
Annelise hung in the ubliet, death circling the room, touching her periodically, then drawing back, restoring a gasp of life, teasing her with a brief relief of release.
“God, it stinks in here,” said Tsukiko, entering through the still broken door. “How do you stand it?”
Annelise didn’t answer. Didn’t move, nor open her eyes. She barely expelled breath. Tsukiko felt only the slightest electrical charge. So slight, that she questioned if she even felt that, or if it was psychological, knowing she was so close to a vampire.
“I don’t understand you,” the Japanese werewolf continued. “I kidnap you, take you from your husband, bring you here so that Nicholas can have his way with you, and you…you still beg him to stop…whatever he was doing the other day. To me. Why?”
Still, no answer.
“I guess you don’t understand me, either,” Tsukiko said. “Why do I stay with him after he treats me like that? Why would I stand by his side even after I stood outside this room the other day and heard his true plan? After what I heard him say to you yesterday about women? All good questions. All good questions, and the answer to each one is because, I have honor, that’s why. He found me on the streets and took me in. I will not dishonor myself, or my family, by turning my back on the one who saved me.”
She removed the bone that Nicholas had left protruding from Annelise’s stomach. The vampire elicited no reaction as Tsukiko noticed the bone was dry—no blood dripped from its tip.
“However,” she continued, “I will also not bring dishonor by turning my back on the other who tried to help me. I will surely pay a price for what I do here now. But, it’s a price I must, and will, accept.
“I know you can hear me. So listen well, now.” She pulled the dangling, Danish vampire closer to her. “You will have your freedom today, but the next time we meet, on the field of battle, I will do everything in my power to kill you. Don’t try to save me, because even if I wanted redemption, I don’t deserve it.”
Tsukiko released Annelise, letting her swing back and forth. Then, shifting to her werewolf state, she climbed up Annelise’s body, over the dead, Scottish teen girl’s body, to where the chains that supported both were bolted to the ceiling. With a great tug, the dead teen dropped into the pit below, as Tsukiko swung Annelise to the side and let her drop to the floor.
Tsukiko landed beside the vampire, and transformed.
“So why free you, you’re probably wondering somewhere inside that coma of yours? Because, hell hath no fury…”
Reaching for the thermos still sitting beside the chair, she took the cap off. The scent of decaying blood rushed out. The feel of the splattering of dried blood on the container reminded the werewolf of a relief map.
“Even I wouldn’t drink this,” said Tsukiko. “And I thought the room smelled bad.”
She drew quiet, pausing every moment, when she heard footsteps in the corridor. The clicking of expensive Italian heels echoed down the hall to the ubliet, as they drifted further away and out of range.
“I hope, wherever you are in there, that you’re praying that we’re not caught.”
She lifted Annelise’s head and poured the stale blood, tiny drops at first to wet the lips, into the vampire’s mouth. The Danish vampire’s long blood-washed blonde hair hung in tangles and clumps, and clung to her shoulders.
Several moments passed with no reaction before Annelise opened her eyes. Looking around the dark room, she finally noticed her head resting in Tsukiko’s arms.
Annelise’s eyes widened and she shook violently, as if in a seizure, unable to lift her arms, seemingly trying to free herself from her supposed captor. She tried to scream. Annelise stared at Tsukiko as she fought vainly.
“Sshhh,” Tsukiko hissed. “Please. Please, be quiet. You’re going to ruin everything. People here aren’t deaf, you know. Though, one is now blind. Anyway, listen, I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to help you. I’m getting you out of here. I know you don’t want to drink this, knowing the source, and that it’s aged, and not like a fine wine, but if you want to live, for now, you must drink.”
Annelise’s eyes shot around the ubliet, looking for someone standing in the shadows, waiting to pounce on her. When she saw no one, she calmed down, letting Tsukiko tip the thermos again. The vampire closed her eyes, trying not to gag on the repugnant life-giving, life-saving, blood. A slight stream poured out of the corner of her mouth as she winced.
“I don’t know what bothers you more—the taste of old, dead blood, or the thought of where it came from.”
Annelise looked up at the werewolf, and furrowed her eyebrows, as if she were still trying to figure the game Nicholas’ ally was running. Then, she blinked twice.
“The source, huh? Well, like I said, if you want to get out of here, drink up.”
Slowly, Annelise lifted her hand to the thermos, helping Tsukiko tip it. It was apparent that small amounts of strength were returning. The vampire looked up at the werewolf, and blinked, nearly in slow motion, very deliberately.
“You’re welcome,” Tsukiko said. “But, please, don’t say that again.”
Picking Annelise off the cold, castle floor, Tsukiko carried her, quickly, quietly, outside the fortress walls of Kilchurn Castle. Annelise snapped her eyes shut from the small amount of starlight that shone on her now-pale face.
“I’m going to carry you a few miles away,” said Tsukiko, “and leave the canister with you. You’ll have to find the strength to go on from there, yourself. Head south.
“If you want to see Ryker again, kill what you have to, drink what you can.”
Through the dark, Scottish countryside, the Japanese werewolf carried the Danish vampire. Traversing the lowlands of the Highlands, through the hills and glens of central Argyll and Bute, they traveled.
Soon, Tsukiko, carrying Annelise, reached the ghost town of Dalmally. The werewolf kicked open the pub door and lay the vampire on the bar.
“This is where we part,” she said. “I’ve done all I can to help. It’s help to you to go the rest of the way. As a woman…I’m sorry. As a loyal follower of Nicholas, I will try to kill you when next we meet.”
Tsukiko set the thermos next Annelise’s head, and turned to walk away. The Dane grabbed the Japanese woman’s hand, as tears rolled down.
“Thank you,” Annelise whispered, her voice dry and raspy.
Tsukiko looked at her, let go of her hand, and walked toward the exit.
“South,” she said, closing the door behind her.
Chapter 13: Requiem
“Alessandro knows that we must hurry, my friend,” said the Italian vampire, “but he also knows that we must feed. We have come so far so quickly, with not a drop to eat. Oh, no, not a drop.”
“Okay,” said Ryker. “It’s so late at night. We’ll probably have some good luck finding what we need in the Catacombs. I’d rather find something that’s already being served. It’s not far from here.”
Quieting his friend, as they neared the city limits of Paris, Ryker’s thoughts returned to his last happy memory of Annelise before she’d been taken during the battle at Kentuc
ky Kingdom in Louisville.
Sitting at a little café in Venice, Ryker and Annelise were having their first date in months. She was radiant—her golden-blonde hair made even more so by the bright rays of the setting Venetian sun streaking down.
“You think Landon’s doing okay in Mexico?” she asked. “What does Catalina have in mind, anyway?”
“He’s with Cat, so I’m sure he’s fine. I don’t know why she wanted to take him to Mexico, but I know there’s a good reason. She wouldn’t have taken him, otherwise. But, listen, let’s not talk shop tonight. For one night, let’s put all of this out of our minds, and enjoy the evening.”
He stretched his hand across the small, round table, and laid it on hers.
“I want you to know,” he continued, “how happy I am to be with you. The day I met you was the second greatest day of my life.”
“The second?” she laughed, jerking her hand out of his. “If meeting me was the second best day, what’s the first?”
“The day you turned me—when I was given eternity to spend with you.”
The Danish woman blushed, her pale, Northern European skin, glowing red as they allowed themselves to be stuck in the moment. A single tear flooded, then fled, her eye.
A gondola slipped past the square where the little café sat, the boatman slowly pushing his vessel along, like Charon on the River Styx, waiting to ferry his next passengers.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said. “I hate it anytime we’re apart, but that always makes the return that much sweeter. I’ll always come home to you.”
Ryker smiled as he stared into her deep blue eyes. The same pair of eyes he’d been looking longingly into for centuries. He had never grown tired of gazing into them.
Suddenly, Connor burst upon them, panic smeared across his face.
“I’ve been looking all over for you guys,” he said.
“Why? What’s the matter?” asked Ryker.
