by Zeecé Lugo
“Do you remember everything that happened?” He looked straight into her eyes, dark and fearful as they were. She cringed as she fought her fear, but she answered him honestly, leaving no doubt.
“Yes. The sight, the sounds, the fear, the blood, the horror, I remember it all.”
“Still you want to remain here? Are you not terrified to have traded one monster for another? You seem unreasonably accepting of what happened, of what I am. I would have expected more terror, shock, disbelief.”
“You have no idea the monsters I've seen in my short life. What those men did to me was just a replay of what many others have done before. I have become immune to rape, torture, humiliation, even murder. What I saw you do last night was justice. You did not hurt the children. You will not hurt the children. I believe that more strongly than I believe anything else. As for me, you can have the last drop of my blood, the last breath of my air, as long as you keep my babies from harm.”
“Female, you’re not offering much,” he answered angrily, pacing the floor in agitation. “I don't think there is enough blood left in your body to keep you alive another day. I honestly think you’re for the grave very soon. I’m surprised you had the strength to bathe. I brought you here in an ill-conceived moment of pity, a decision I regretted at once.”
“I know. When I die, and I believe that will be soon, will you make sure my babies live? I have a friend living in Seattle. Will you see to it that she gets them?” She stopped to catch her breath.
“You don't have to take them. You can call her. I have her number. Once I'm dead, she'll have no choice but to come and get them. I beg of you, grant this kindness to a dying woman and her defenseless, innocent babies. Such an act of mercy would go a long way in the eyes of God. It would make up for much.”
The woman's eyes bore into him, and they were dark and pained but also earnest and full of hope. What was he going to say? No? She would then cry and beg, and he would not know how to deal with that.
He could agree to anything she asked, and once she was dead, do what he wanted anyway. The kids would be better off with the social services than with a friend who “had no choice” but to come get them. The authorities would find the children nice foster homes and all that, he was positive.
People who felt a deep need to see something accomplished, clung to life. By setting her mind at ease in the matter of her children, he was being noble and helping her die in peace. He smiled at her with much condescension and simulated honesty. He was, after all, an accomplished liar.
“Of course, I can do that. It will be no problem at all. It is the least I can do for the little darlings.” He answered easily, feeling no guilt, giving her unspoken leave to die anytime at all, the sooner the better. As for God, vampires did not believe in gods. If one did in fact exist, one little act of kindness was definitely not enough to erase all the deaths he carried on his shoulders.
CHAPTER 5
The whiskey bottle struck the granite pavers with explosive force and shattered in a million pieces, shards flying, flashing in the sun like fireworks. Around the pool, the dozen or so beautiful, young girls in their skimpy bikinis shielded their faces and trembled in fear, but not one made a sound that could draw the man’s ire. They all strove to remain invisible, out of the range of his anger.
The large, free-form swimming pool was landscaped to resemble a tropical lagoon, surrounded by palm trees, exotic foliage, and dotted with rocky waterfalls. It was nestled at the edge of the ocean itself, further testimony to the riches and power that the man who owned the seaside complex wielded. Anchored half a mile away, visible from their vantage point, was a large luxury yacht that also belonged to him.
“Where? Where the fuck are they?” Carlos Pretto hollered at the top of his lungs. He picked up a second bottle of obscenely expensive Scottish whiskey and hurled it too. His trusted henchmen stood by, silent, stoic in the face of his fury. They had been with him long enough to know that his anger would burn out. They had little fear of him. He would never turn that anger on them.
Now, the girls, that was a different story. Breaking a few bottles of expensive liquor was one thing. Marring a young, beautiful, high-end whore would mean a loss of millions of dollars in easy revenue over her useful years. Rich men did not pay thousands of dollars to fuck scarred, flawed women.
The two brothers stood ready to intervene should their boss’s fury get out of control and threaten the females. Discreetly, they signaled the girls to disappear. The women quietly and quickly left the pool area.
“Tell me, Felix, how does a woman on the run, one with no history, no support, a dead protector, and two brats clinging to her, make my team of highly trained soldiers disappear? For make no mistake, disappear they have. It has been two days, two days without a word from a team that reported three times daily. They had her on sights. She was on the run.”
“I agree, Mr. Pretto,” answered Felix, a tall, handsome Nordic man, his square jaw, spiky blond hair, and deep blue eyes reminiscent of a young Dolph Lundgren. His brother, Claus, stood silently by. “The team has been neutralized. Only death would have kept them from making a report. A search of the media and our sources in New York City should at least tell us what happened to them. If they’re dead, their remains have to show up somewhere.”
“I can understand that she has evaded my grasp for all these years. Marco was one of mine, trained to our methods, savvy in our ways. He was wily, resourceful, powerful in his own right with his old-school connections and the money he inherited from his dead parents. But she’s alone now, unable to access those resources, on the run out in the open. How did she do it?”
“I honestly can’t see how, Mr. Pretto. I will find the answer. I promise you, Sir. I think this time, we should be more subtle. One investigator who works the area, keeping under the radar, will be more effective. We know where she is. There is no need to send the bull into the glass shop.”
“Yes, Felix. I know now that you were right. I should have listened when you advised me against sending in a team. I wanted so much to make her suffer, to strike ugly and hard. I should have remembered that it was the two of you who finally found Marco Ferrars after my people had failed to find him for years. I will let you do it your way this time. But no more failure, Felix. I want this finished, you understand? Finished. Find her now.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Carlos Pretto remained alone in thought after his men left. His personal servant, Joseph, began sweeping up the broken glass after fixing him a drink. Pretto sat on a lounge chair gazing at the sea. In his own estimation, He was not a sadistic, cruel master. He did only what needed doing. He was quite reasonable, actually.
He was a businessman, one who protected assets and amassed wealth. The people who worked for him were rewarded handsomely. They lived in luxury, ate the best food, wore designer clothes, rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful, traveled in style.
The young women were given expensive clothes and jewels, the best of medical care, and were protected from physical abuse. Even the richest and most powerful patron was not allowed to harm one of his girls. These were not $200 whores. Each female represented a sizable investment with expected returns of millions of dollars over many years.
Each was chosen for her beauty and youth. Once broken and trained, she joined a family of elite “escorts” that would please the most exacting man. A few hours in the company of one such girl cost thousands of dollars. Each girl was special. Angelica had been very special.
He remembered with vivid detail the first time he saw her. It was in Cancún, on a sun-drenched day at the beach. He’d been enjoying himself sitting at the outdoors bar of the hotel while waiting for a friend to join him.
In the distance, a group of young people walked at the water’s edge, laughing and talking, looking for a spot to claim on the sand. As they found their spot a few yards from the hotel, he watched one of the girls take off her straw hat, drop it carelessly, and shake her long, glossy mane of
hair. Her white bathing suit, brilliant against her honey-colored skin, was modest.
She was lovely, fresh, young, flawless. Her face was framed in softly curving delicate lines. Her body was lithe and strong, just blooming into its strength. He heard her laughter as she lifted her face to the sun and ran into the water, her friends chasing after her. He took a picture with his iPhone and sent it to his recruiter. Five days later, she was on a special hold in one of his yachts.
It was the worst mistake he ever made, taking Angelica. The girls they “recruited” never took long to see the light. All were young and easily dazzled by the luxury. All were intimidated by power. Society had taught them to be subservient to men, especially those girls that came from outside the United States. Society had also taught them that their value lay in their beauty and sexuality.
But Angelica was made from a different mold. Erotic seduction, the lure of designer clothes and wild parties, the promise of exciting adventures, all failed where she was concerned. Only rape, isolation, the threat of punishment and death proved effective. The result was an Angelica who played her role well, but in truth, she despised, feared him, and secretly plotted to escape him. In turn, he fell madly in love with his high-priced whore.
It didn’t matter now. That was years ago, before she seduced his trusted and most favored lieutenant and lured Marco to betray him. One thing Carlos Pretto learned through experience and observation: the one emotion that never lasted was romantic love. On the other hand, hatred, especially when sparked by personal betrayal, blazed with ungodly fury for ever.
Carlos Pretto had stopped loving his whore a long time ago. His love had been replaced by a bitter, all-consuming hatred that would not let go. It was an uncomfortable hatred, an emotion that burned, itched, chafed like a too-tight suit made of nettles. It kept him awake at night. It pounded at him like the unending rush of the waves upon the shore. It kept him from trusting again, from loving again. To rid himself of the prickly suit, he must destroy the source of his hatred.
CHAPTER 6
Toma left his underground quarters and made his way through the ancient, torch-lit cobbled alleys and hidden paths of the complex labyrinth. Originally, these had been a network of catacombs and tunnels made in antiquity. Forgotten and unused for centuries on end, no one even knew what their original purpose had been.
His people, running from the sweeping social and political changes taking place in their homeland, from the looming threat of extinction, found these the perfect place to settle. Protected from the sun, nestled below a never-ending source of blood that was a booming city, and easily protected and hidden, these ancient catacombs became home.
Of course, it took years, secrecy, ingenuity, great planning, and capital to adapt, reinforce, expand, and protect the underground enclave. It helped that his people were rich and resourceful. He made his way through the alleys until he came to a specific locked door. He banged on it and soon it opened.
“Going topside,” he told the man who answered, and he was allowed entry. The small room inside, no larger than a large pantry, had another door. He went through it and up a flight of stairs that turned on a second landing and then a third. There was no light by which to navigate, but his kind needed none.
Eventually, he reached another door and, once again, he knocked. It opened from the outside, and he stepped out into another small room.
“Has Danut come through yet?” he asked the watchman.
“Yes, he has been waiting for a while. Go right on through, Sir.”
He exited into an enclosed courtyard, a lovely outdoors garden. Dotted about were intimate groupings of tables and chairs, an open-air cafe where people sat enjoying the lovely, romantic setting. It catered to a mixture of tourists and locals, human and vampire. Of course, the vampires passed for human. Toma spotted his friend and made his way to him, taking the empty seat across from him.
“What kept you? I almost gave up waiting,” asked Danut.
“I was held up by family business.”
“Isn’t it all family business?”
“My sister, Ivanna, paid me a call. It would have been rude to dismiss her, especially when I need her on my side. Our meeting proved very productive.”
“Your beautiful sister has her own agenda. She expects to become Maxim's queen should he accept the throne. There was a time when they were quite close.”
“Yes, but all that has changed. Not the wanting to be queen, not that, but she is tired of waiting. She realizes that Maxim may not be the only means to her ambition. I believe her agenda and mine may now complement each other. It’s a matter of what I can offer. In that aspect, I have the advantage since Maxim offers nothing at all. He desires neither power nor Ivanna. She’s lovely but hardly stupid.”
“True,” offered Danut.
“When do you leave?”
“At next sunset. In a week’s time, your problem should be over. Then it will be a matter of you dealing with the fallout, primarily your father. However it plays out, it will not be easy for you.”
“Leave the old man to me. When he finds his options limited, he’ll have no choice but to come around. With Ivanna on my side, it may take time, but I’ll prevail.”
“If Maxim is out of the way, your father is next in line of succession. It will be just a matter of time, a decade or two, before the power comes to you.” Danut made it sound so easy. Like all vampires, he viewed time as a gentle pond you drifted on while lying on your back, blissfully bathing in moonlight.
Toma could not bear the idea of waiting a few more decades. He had no wish to drift in bliss. He preferred the invigorating frenzy of a tumbling rapid, to get to his destination in a flash. He wanted now.
******
Ivanna stood at the window of her brother's luxurious beachfront apartment, watching the bloated, silvery moon glowing bright over the water. The sound of the waves rushing to shore was not a calming, comforting sound to her. She was never able to fall asleep to its music. To the contrary, it made her fearful.
The sound reminded her of dark, cold, grasping things moving around in the water's depths waiting to pull you down and consume you. She feared the image of an immense wall of dark water rising, rushing to shore to destroy and wipe out everything in its wake. Many ancient cities had been wiped out in such a way.
Her brother stood behind her, so close she felt his warmth radiating from him, felt his breath upon her cheek as he leaned down to whisper.
“Years ago, when I was just coming into my manhood, we went on a summer visit to Uncle Sergei's villa. Do you remember?”
“Yes, yes I do. It was a family gathering that had been planned for months. We were all young and brash then, even Luca and Maxim.”
“I remember a night very much like this one. We had lighted bonfires by the water's edge, and the sounds of fiddle and flute and laughter rang through the night. Near sunrise, I went to Otto's quarters, meaning to continue our revels there. I did not know that he'd left his rooms to you during our stay.”
“Yes, Otto was such a sweet boy.”
“I saw you. You lay naked, your skin luminescent as pearl. Your dark hair fanned out on your pillow, your mouth was slightly open, your eyes were closed. Your legs were apart, and your hand delved into your nest of curls in a questing rhythm.”
“I do remember,” Ivanna murmured. “I had no idea I was not alone.”
“I watched for a long time. I burned to join you, to spread your thighs and delve into the sweetness of your heated flesh. To hear your cries of pleasure and know that I had caused them. That night birthed my unnatural desire for you.” Toma bent his head and touched his lips to her neck.
Ivanna shuddered and allowed herself to lean back into his warmth. “You wish me to believe that this is not your naked ambition scheming and seducing for its own sake? That I’m not a means to your goals? Surely, I know better than that.”
“You do know me well. In my ambition, I will scheme, seduce, use any tool and means at my di
sposal. Still, remember that like any other creature, I have many hungers, many goals. Before I was ever aware that I wanted power, I knew I wanted you. Imagine my joy when I find that the one thing I desire, may bring me the one I hunger for most.”
“You hope that seducing your sister will bring you closer to the vampire throne.”
“No, love. I hope that the lure of the vampire throne will help me seduce the sister I've longed to possess for years.”
Toma's arms circled her waist and pulled her against him. She could feel his hard manhood pressing brazenly, unashamedly against her buttocks. His lips kissed and licked that special spot just behind her ear. She felt the lure of the forbidden, the mysterious act that made you a member of a very small and secret society.
His hand caressed his way over the tight valley of her belly and over the lovely mound, his fingers curling into it and starting a relentless, sensual stroking that left her breathless and trembling.
“Yes, yes, do seduce me,” she whispered. “I will allow, even welcome it.”
“Oh, yes, love. I will make love to you. I will do all to you. I will be your slave.” His hands reached under her short dress, sliding up possessively over her thighs, caressing, searching. His lips burned a trail of kisses over her neck and shoulders, his fingers quested and found the warm, moist little cove to delve in. As Ivanna's legs folded and she went to her knees, he went with her.
Moonlight showed the ecstasy on her face as she lay back in her brother's arms, head thrown back against his shoulder. She knelt with knees wide apart, blood-red dress riding high on her thighs as her lover's fingers moved deep into her, stoking her fire, driving her weak with pleasure.
