Kallisto glared at me as she raised herself up to her full height.
“I didn’t mean to say you were punishing me.” I tripped over the words to get them out before Kallisto’s rage erupted.
“Oh, I see. He’s bedded you, and now you think him your love. How sweet.”
“It’s not that, he saved me, I can’t—”
“Spare me your emotional drivel. Your mortal life is of no concern to me. If you were meant to die, then you should have. Lysander did nothing more than condemn you by going against my wishes and turning you. Perhaps I should show you what we do with bastards.” Kallisto nodded at Edmond. I saw his shadow tower over me as he rose from his seat.
“I have no need of defiant little fledglings in my coven anyway. If you can’t take orders, then you are of no use to me.”
“No, wait,” I pleaded. “I didn’t mean…I’m…” Crap!
Edmond pulled me backward. I looked up into his eyes, silently begging him not to do anything, but he didn’t acknowledge me.
“You have exceeded the limits of my tolerance,” Kallisto growled.
Panic took me. I jerked forward, but Edmond held me firm. Kallisto leaned over me, pressing her body on top of mine. Her face was a mere inch from mine, and her breath felt heavy on my face.
“Please, I beg you… don’t….” I tried to jerk out of Edmond’s grip.
Kallisto smiled widely, purposefully showing me her teeth before sinking them deep into my neck. The pinch as they broke the skin sent a shock through my body. I felt the blood leaving me as Kallisto voraciously drained the life from my body.
My eyes rolled back. Weakness settled into my limbs. My head felt heavy. Fighting against the dizziness, I tried to keep conscious. My life flashed before my eyes: I saw my childhood, the attack on campus, Lysander’s kiss, the transformation, and my baptism into the coven.
My heart slowed; my body felt thin and deflated as it gave way, sinking into the couch. Edmond must have realized I had no strength left; he released me. I focused on the ceiling, trying desperately to fight against the weight of my heavy eyelids. I didn’t want to sleep forever, to die in this place.
Chapter 23
LAYING IN A daze, unable to move, I fought against the weight of my eyelids, needing to keep conscious.
Kallisto licked the blood from her lips and returned to her seat on the couch. “That should keep you silent,” she cackled. The sound of her laugh was muffled, but it echoed all around me. My hearing was distorted; sounds seemed to bounce off the walls.
The familiar dehydrated sensation returned to me, the burning inside my body. Hunger welled up inside me. I needed blood. I desperately tried to will myself upward, but it was no use. I couldn’t move; my body was heavy and my limbs would not respond.
“You did not kill her, mistress?” Edmond asked.
“Not yet. Lysander needs to feel she is still alive.”
“You’re brilliant, my queen.” Edmond’s words, though in praise, sounded more rehearsed than real. His calm face showed no sign of emotion. I wondered if Kallisto’s recent revelation had some effect on his thoughts.
Kallisto reveled in her victory over me. No amount of will power, it seemed, could get my limbs to move. I was paralyzed and unable to defend against her taunts and advances. She wiped my wounded neck with her finger and showed it to me, waving the smeared blood in front of my face.
I wanted to cry out, but my lips wouldn’t move. I could only let out a soft whimper.
She licked her fingers clean, moaning with pleasure as her eyes rolled back into her head. “I can taste his essence in your blood.” She appeared to swoon. “Edmond, would you like a taste?”
Again, she wiped the blood from my neck and offered it to Edmond.
“No, thank you, mistress,” he responded in a low monotone.
She ignored his words, wiping blood on his lips, letting out a girlish giggle as she did it.
I wanted to lash out in anger, but my body was heavy and unwilling to move.
Move, damn you! Get up, do something!
I willed my hand to move, to do something, but it would not cooperate.
Kallisto must have recognized the struggle in my eyes. “Hungry, dear?” She taunted. “Did you want some too?”
Once more she wiped the blood from my neck, tracing it with her finger on the outside of my lips.
“Enjoy,” she cackled.
Rage tore through me, but I had no way to unleash it. I needed blood to reanimate my lifeless body. I was a motionless lump, unable to perform the simple action of licking my own lips.
A commotion outside stole Kallisto and Edmond’s focus.
“Ah, here is your knight in shining armor now, Alyssa.” Kallisto gloated. Her eyes lit up in anticipation. “Right on time.”
“Shall I call your guard, mistress?” Edmond asked.
I heard distant shouting and sounds of a struggle. Someone yelled. Shrieks of men sounded outside of the front window.
Excitement showed on Kallisto’s face “I think they already know,” she said with a smirk. “Let him come to me.”
The sound of crashing glass filled my ears. A limp figure flew through the window, ripping off the sheet that had been used as daylight cover. The body hit the floor with a dull thud.
Kallisto’s and Edmond’s attention was drawn to the gaping hole that had been the living room window.
Edmond slowly bent down to inspect the lifeless body on the ground. “Mistress, this one is one of ours: Collin.”
Kallisto shook with rage. “Go out there and bring Lysander back to me. He will pay for this.”
Edmond disappeared in a rush.
The sound of crunching glass filled the room. Kallisto looked up towards the broken window.
The expectant look on her face suddenly turned to horror. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes grew wide. I heard the footsteps of someone climbing though the broken glass. I could tell this was not someone she had expected to see. I cursed my fragile body, but was unable to move. I wanted to know who it was that could cause such fear in Kallisto’s eyes.
I tried hard to glimpse this character out of the corner of my eye, but it was no use. Unable to turn my head, I couldn’t see who it was.
I heard the sounds of fighting continue outside. This person, whoever it was, wasn’t alone. The others who had been sent to guard the home were now undoubtedly locked in battle with whoever was audacious enough to take on Kallisto’s coven.
“Kallisto, I presume. At last we meet,” the stranger said.
Marked by age, his voice was new to me, not a voice I had heard before. I wracked my brain to think of who it might be.
Terror struck me as I thought of the only person who brought fear to the hearts of most immortals.
The Saints. Of course. It must be Santino.
I couldn’t speak it, even if my lips had been willing to move. Death was here.
He must have had the van followed. Surely our escape had drawn some attention. It wouldn’t have been hard to keep the building under surveillance, and a group of hooded people in sunglasses jumping into a darkened van had to have alerted them.
“Santino,” Kallisto greeted him with a note of superiority. She raised herself to her full height as she sat defiantly on the couch.
“How is it you have escaped me all these years?” Santino asked.
“Leave my house immediately, Saint,” Kallisto hissed.
“You know as well as I do that this isn’t your home, Kallisto. I can smell what’s left of the poor mortals you slaughtered to acquire it.”
“Your reverence for those poor mortals is truly awe-inspiring, Saint,” Kallisto said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
A low bass growl rumbled from Santino’s direction. I wanted desperately to see him for myself. Struggling against my failing muscles, I finally found some strength. My head moved, flopping over on its side.
Santino Vitale came into view. Lysander’s sketch didn’t do him justice. He was
frightening to look at. A ghostly white face scarred by battle, wrinkled and creased with age. His hair was a rat’s nest, a mess of gray and black hanging wildly about his face like a lion’s mane. Fresh blood speckled his face, and he breathed heavily with a hoarse and raspy sound.
“It does not matter how I came by this house. It is my home now, and you will leave,” Kallisto demanded.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Santino said calmly. “I’m sure you understand the nature of my visit.” He reached toward his belt, unsheathing a large serrated knife. He smiled wickedly, looking up at Kallisto and flashing the blade in front of her face. A large, gold-inlaid cross was carved into the handle. Writing of some kind, a scripture perhaps, was etched into the blade.
Kallisto’s eyes seemed to be focused on the large knife. After a few moments of silence, she seemed to regain her composure. “You have the audacity to come here, to address me—you, who kills your own kind for sport?” Her voice was hesitant. I sensed fear. She was stalling for more time. She must have been hoping her guard would come.
Santino growled, “It is not sport that drives me to my tasks, madam. It is duty. You and your kind are an abomination in the eyes of God.”
“What god do you speak of?” Kallisto snapped. “Zeus, Allah, Jupiter, Shangdi? Or do you speak in the name of some other deity?”
“I speak for the one true God and His Church,” Santino said proudly, his chest thrust out as he spoke.
“You speak for Rome and whatever Rome tells you.” Kallisto’s voice regained a little of its power. “I knew Rome in the days of Jupiter. Did your precious Church teach you anything about its history? Let me enlighten you. The Romans stole their gods from the Greeks, then after they had altered their meanings and become tired of worshipping them, they threw them aside, choosing their new Christian deity—the one you now serve. Do not speak to me of one God. I’ve lived through many. Talk to me in another thousand years and your God will have become myth, just as many others have before. Mortals have short attention spans for their deities.”
“I’m afraid you will not be around to speak to in a thousand years, madam,” Santino laughed. “And I’m not here to discuss your religious beliefs; however, I will send you to your maker so you can discuss it with Him. By order of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, you are—”
“Spare me your babble, Saint,” she spat at Santino.
“—hereby sentenced to final death.” Santino ignored her protests and reached out, grabbing her arm.
Kallisto screeched as Santino pulled her down and ripped her dress, knocking her off balance.
She quickly recovered and swung her foot forward in an attempt to kick Santino. He fell backward, just out of the way of her foot, and swiped at her other leg. She fell to the ground with a thud.
The corner of Santino’s mouth rose in a crooked grin. He bent down, knife at the ready.
Kallisto pawed at Santino, grabbing a handful of his hair. She yanked his head sideways, exposing his neck. Baring her fangs, she let out a primal growl.
I cursed my weak body. I couldn’t escape, even while these two were caught in battle with one another.
They seemed very evenly matched. Santino’s aged look was only a cover for the immortal energy beneath.
In a blur, Santino stood and threw Kallisto into the wall. Drywall cracked and the whole house groaned and shook with the impact.
She fell to the ground, stunned.
Santino quickly mounted her. He pinned her to the ground, delivering merciless punches to her face. Blood splattered into the air; droplets landed on me as Santino pummeled her.
Kallisto’s arms flailed. She clawed at his face. “Get off of me,” she screamed.
Santino bared his fangs and bent down to Kallisto. She jerked and writhed under him suddenly, with strength I had not thought it possible she still had. She grasped him and sent him tumbling to the ground, crashing into the couch where I lay.
Thankfully, no one took any notice of me, but the jolt from the impact rolled my head back, forcing me to look straight up at the ceiling.
I had no control over my body, and now I could only hear the struggle as it continued below me on the floor. Limbs flashed over my head. Yells, grunts, screeching, and moaning filled my ears. The walls shook as the two vampires continued to destroy the room in their struggle.
I wondered what would happen next.
If Santino kills Kallisto, will he come after me? Will he chase after Edmond, thinking me dead? Are Kallisto’s followers still outside of the house, or have they, too, been destroyed?
The room fell silent. Desperately, I pushed my body to move. I needed to see what was happening. I willed my muscles to work. Slowly, they contracted, allowing my head to roll.
Santino and Kallisto came into view. Santino had again mounted Kallisto, and his head was buried in her neck. Her arms were wrapped around his body, nails digging into his clothes, slowly clawing away at his back. I sensed the weakness in her. One of her hands fell limply to the floor. She let out a feeble whimper. Then, the other hand fell. Her body shuddered, then stilled.
Santino looked up as my head came to rest, and our eyes met.
Oh hell!
A rush of fear took over. I’d been ignored up to this point. Now Santino knew I was alive.
Santino grabbed his large knife and cut into Kallisto’s neck, sawing it down to the bone. Seconds later, a loud crack sounded as he snapped the neck with his hands.
A chill went down my spine. I knew that was the final blow. What little blood there was dripped down to the floor as he finished slicing the last strings of flesh attaching her head to her neck.
The sweet smell of blood permeated the air, reminding me of my thirst. Small droplets of blood dripped from the severed head as Santino held it up. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled something in Latin, before tossing the head into the living room fireplace.
Sounds of struggle could still be heard outside of the house. I wondered what had happened to Edmond, if he had attempted an escape or if he was trying to locate reinforcements.
Santino stood and walked to the fireplace. A small metal key jutted out from the wall. He turned it and a faint hissing came from within the wall. Santino mumbled again under his breath. His hand searched the surrounding wall until he found a light switch and flipped it up. Flames quickly erupted in the fireplace. The burning smell of hair and flesh immediately attacked my senses. The fire quickly engulfed the severed head. Kallisto was no more.
Santino grunted and looked over his shoulder at me.
Chapter 24
PARALYZED, I WAS an easy target. Santino turned and took a step towards me.
If I could have screamed, I would have, but I made no more than a whimper.
“Looks like someone got to you first,” he said in a low voice.
I couldn’t answer. I was weak; my heart couldn’t even beat to match the fear I felt. I whimpered.
Please, no! Leave me alone. Go after Edmond.
He grabbed my head, moving it from side to side, examining my wounded neck.
A man yelled outside, and the sounds of fighting suddenly stopped. Santino arched his eyebrow and turned to look over his shoulder. Silence surrounded us, and after a minute, he returned his attention to me.
“Not going to be much of a fight, are you?” he asked, grabbing his large knife again. Blood coated it from his recent kill. Kallisto’s blood. I caught the scent of it. My body cried out for it. I needed blood. I needed to live. I needed to get out of this mess.
The sound of Kallisto’s neck cracking and popping as Santino snapped it echoed in my ears. I knew those sounds would soon be coming from me if I didn’t somehow move.
Santino’s eyes closed. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled a prayer.
I called forth all the strength and energy I could muster.
One final time, I willed my muscles to listen. Move, I yelled in my head. Move, damn it! But my body would not respond. I had nothing
left. There would be no escape.
Santino’s eyes opened. He stared down at me with disgust, as if I were a mangy animal and it was beneath him to have to put me down. His lip curled into a sneer. I shuddered beneath him. His gaze sent shivers down my spine. I knew death was imminent.
He breathed a deep, growling breath and placed the blade to my neck. I felt its deadly weight and sharpness.
“Santino!” a man shouted from the broken window.
I recognized this voice and the warm feeling that accompanied it.
Santino turned to view this new interruption. Reaching down, he put his hands into his pockets and pulled out a small remote. Pressing it, he dropped it to the ground. It flashed back and forth from red to green, emitting no sound as it fell out of my view.
Though his body blocked most of my view, I could make out two figures standing in the window. One of the figures, a man, was struggling.
“Let me go,” he shrieked.
Santino took a few steps closer to the pair, and as he moved out of my view I saw Lysander, Edmond, and the Peregrinus Clan at the window.
A brief feeling of relief washed over me.
“What is this?” Santino asked. “You all come willingly to repent and meet your God?”
Lysander held Edmond firmly by the arm. He stepped inside the house, pulling Edmond with him. Glass crunched under his feet. The sound was music to my ears. Surely the Peregrinus and Lysander could take on Santino, and we would all be safe.
“Still Rome’s lapdog, are we, Santino?” Lysander growled.
I was never more happy to see a man’s face than I was at that moment. Lysander looked so strong, so masculine, so powerful, standing there in front of Santino.
Lysander shoved Edmond forward, sending him crashing to the floor. He turned as if looking for an exit, but the Peregrinus clan blocked his escape. They quickly followed through the broken window. Edmond frantically scanned the room, probably looking for some way out.
As Kallisto’s decapitated body came into his view, a look of horror crossed Edmond’s face. He fell to his knees, grasping the lifeless hand of his former mistress.
Paranormal After Dark: 20 Paranormal Tales of Demons, Shifters, Werewolves, Vampires, Fae, Witches, Magics, Ghosts and More Page 462
