A Vampire's Rise

by Vanessa Fewings

  “How far?”

  “Five months.”

  “And Salvador?”

  “He’s well. Ricardo, too.”

  “Perhaps we’ll be blessed with another child.”

  I hugged her. “What would you say to us moving?”

  “But I love it here.”

  “We can rebuild.”

  Annabelle squeezed me tighter. “This is our home. I won’t let that man run us out of it.” She gazed up at me. “He’s forgotten all of that now.”

  I knew that’s what she wanted to believe, and so did I, but Felipe had proven himself to be vicious.

  “What could he do to you now?” Her eyes widened, as though she’d read my mind.

  Some part of me knew, despite the five years that had passed since I’d last seen him, Felipe still held a grudge. His thirst for power paled in comparison to his desire for wealth. We lived on the very land he believed should be his. Yet Annabelle was right, we had been left alone. No dispatches from his lawyers and no more threats.

  “I have something to show you.” Annabelle placed her small hand in mine and guided me out of the study.

  “Where are we going?” I pulled her toward me and stole a kiss.

  “You’ll see.”

  I followed her out onto the lawn that crushed beneath our feet, above us a clear night sky.

  I cringed. “Oh, God, I haven’t forgotten our anniversary, have I?”

  “Silly.” She pointed to a row of small shrubs. “This is the best place for them.”

  I stared down at the twigs sprouting out of the ground.

  She beamed with pride. “Rose bushes.”

  “What color?”

  “Red.”

  I pretended to find joy in this moment, even though disconcerting memories were stirred by the scent of a rose. I studied the barest shrubs and considered the wisdom of staying here to see them grow.

  “There’s plenty of sun here.” I knelt to examine more closely one of the buds. My fingertip caught on a thorn, and the puncture went deep. I sucked on the oozing drop of blood, quietly alarmed that coupled with the sharp sting, it brought with it a terrible omen.

  Chapter 19

  AN AUGUST EVENING FILLED the air with the scent of jasmine, and the cool summer breeze carried with it the faint chirping of cicadas.

  Taking my usual seat on the front porch, I topped up my glass of white wine, the fermented grapes cultivated on this very land.

  The sunset flooded the landscape.

  The years had unfolded, seamlessly shifting from one glorious month to another. The relief from suffering sustained during my former years bestowed a visceral gratitude not easily forgotten, as it seeped into the present.

  But as I glanced up at the horizon, I was gripped with a wave of terror that the peace I’d come to cherish was about to end.

  Salvador’s father galloped toward the estate. I put down my drink and leaped to my feet.

  Señor Moran dismounted. “He has them.” His color was ashen.

  “Dear God.” My voice broke.

  “I don’t know how he found them. They were in Italy.” His eyes were sick with fear. “By the time I receive an appointment with his highness, it will be too late.”

  “Ready my best horse,” I shouted to the stable boys. “Now!”

  Moran was shaking violently. “He accuses Alicia of witchcraft.”

  No. The ground became unsteady.

  Miguel quickly joined us.

  “I’m going to Vigo,” I blurted, my mouth dry.

  Miguel grabbed the horse’s harness from the stable boy. “Felipe?”

  I nodded and quickly mounted. “Tell Annabelle . . .”

  “I know.” Miguel tightened the reins. “I’ll tell her.”

  Chapter 20

  BLOOD STAINED MY HANDS.

  My horse collapsed just outside Vigo. Unable to bear seeing him suffer any further, I unsheathed my knife and with an unsteady grip, slit his throat. After it was done, I retched on an empty stomach.

  I washed off the blood in a trough outside a deserted cottage. Still trembling, I used the same knife that I’d slaughtered my horse with to shave off my stubble. Thieves were not unusual in wealthy neighborhoods and I didn’t want to be confused for one.

  Staring up at the senator’s residence, exhaustion lingered beneath my terror.

  Several service carts rumbled along, pulled by mules, following the road up to the great house. I ignored the first two and leaped onto the third, scrambling beneath the hessian material covering the mound of vegetables. I reached for a carrot and munched on the orange stick, despite the taste of soil. The cart rolled to a stop outside the deliveryman’s door.

  With no real plan, only a sense of urgency to get my sister and Salvador out, I willed myself to find courage. I wiped the dirt from my mouth, straightened my hair, and slid out from beneath the material.

  Inside the kitchen, I strolled through, looking like I belonged, nodding in greeting to servants who scurried about, busy with their chores. Carrying a tray of food, I walked through the doorway that led into the foyer.

  Three guards stood talking nearby and glanced my way, but I kept going, ready to reach for my concealed knife. With a confident air that I didn’t feel, I headed for the cellars.

  I’d half-listened as Ferring had explained long ago that it was typical to keep supplies in the cold vaults, and apparently it was the best place for the prisoners.

  A maid believed my story that I was new, and guided me to the top of the stairwell and pointed to the basement. As I descended, the dank prison smell brought back stark memories, and I tried to push the dark nostalgia away.

  Alicia lay asleep in the corner of a squalid chamber. I’d not expected to see her down here, rather Salvador incarcerated in these terrible conditions. But after checking the few cells, I only found her. I was surprised to find the door unlocked. Careful not to startle her, I knelt close.

  Alicia opened her eyes and sighed when she saw me.

  “I’m going to get you out,” I mouthed.

  “Salvador?” she asked.

  “I haven’t seen him.” I glanced out of the cell and turned back to face Alicia with a puzzled stare.

  She staggered to her feet. “Felipe told me he’d kill Ricardo if I left here.”

  “I’ll find him.” I wrapped my arm around her waist to support her.

  Through the dungeon, we made our way up and out, and then lingered at the top of the stairwell, waiting for our pathway to clear.

  “I can’t leave without them.” She trembled.

  “I’ll come back.” My gut wrenched when I realized Alicia didn’t look pregnant.

  Gaunt, she became distant and tears soaked her pale cheeks. Then, as though coming round a few seconds later, she murmured, “Felipe sent his men to arrest us.” Her hand lay on her belly. “I lost the baby.”

  I felt an awful, twisting grief and couldn’t imagine what she endured. “How did he know you were in Italy?”

  “Felipe told me he intercepted a letter from Salvador’s mother.” She grasped my sleeve.

  I let out a slow breath. “I’ll come back for them.”

  When we reached the stables, I found what looked like a fast horse and bridled him. I patted his neck, trying to earn his trust as I slid on the saddle and then secured the girth around his chest.

  I turned to Alicia. “Promise me,” I held her arm to make sure she listened, “you won’t stop until you get to Miranda’s home.”

  Alicia nodded. “I remember it.”

  With my assistance, Alicia grasped the reins and mounted.

  “Neither of you can stay there.” With caution I led the stallion out. “Felipe may come looking for you.”

  Alicia sobbed. “I can’t leave.”

  “It’s getting dark. They won’t be able to catch you. Hold on tight.” I slapped the horse’s rump.

  Alicia galloped off and I continued to watch her, making sure she didn’t turn the horse around. She
rode well and was light in the saddle. I prayed she’d make it.

  Two guards came from out of nowhere. A fist struck my jaw and an unseen foot kicked me forward into the dirt.

  I spat out soil and then came an awful pressure of a man kneeling on my back, and hands choking me.

  Muffled orders were shouted our way. The knee lifting its weight, the hands easing their grip, I sucked in air . . . and yelled my rage.

  * * * *

  A lone soldier was ordered to guard me. His gruff expression was all I needed to find something else to look at in the office.

  My throat hurt so bad, I had trouble swallowing.

  An oversized mahogany writing desk was positioned in the center, and pretentious leather-bound books furnished the shelves. Upon the wall behind the desk hung a painting, a portrayal of the biblical tale of Belshazzar’s Feast.

  Prince Belshazzar’s morbid expression matched my own. He’d made the mistake of insulting God. He, his wives, concubines, and other cohorts had tasted from the sacred vessels stolen from Solomon’s temple. The prince glared back at a disembodied hand that reached out of a cloud of nowhere.

  The guard coughed and I caught him wiping his brow.

  I turned my attention back to the painting where God scribed in Aramaic that Belshazzar’s days were numbered.

  The door opened and several men entered, closely followed by Felipe.

  Salvador was somewhere within these walls, held prisoner, at Felipe’s mercy. I had to persuade Felipe to let him go.

  Felipe followed my gaze. “You’re unable to appreciate the significance of such a portrait.”

  A lump in my throat, I swallowed hard. “Where’s Salvador?”

  Felipe neared the canvas. “God’s reckoning with an arrogant man,” he leaned in close, “Belshazzar believes himself greater than his creator. Sound familiar?”

  “God destroys Belshazzar’s seat of power,” I said. “Sound familiar?”

  “My men have gone after Alicia.”

  Belshazzar’s eyes bulged and the petrified expressions of his guests reflected the horror of my own drama. I steadied myself.

  “No reaction?” Felipe looked amused.

  His men patted down my jacket and found my knife.

  “Was that for me?” Felipe drew near. “I can add conspirator to your list of crimes.”

  “Where’s Ricardo?” I asked.

  “Home.” Felipe picked up a parchment from his desk and handed it to me. “I assumed you’d pay a visit, so I had this prepared.”

  The lawyer’s scrawl was familiar, as was the content. I reached for the quill on his desk and signed it.

  Felipe snatched the paper back. “Well, that was easy.”

  Having just signed over my entire estate, I tried to keep focused and tell myself that such things were unimportant.

  “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.” Felipe seemingly paused for effect and then said, “Any act of treason is punishable by death.”

  “But I signed—”

  “Everything you own over to me.”

  The air was stifling and a wave of nausea hit me hard.

  “Out,” he ordered the guards, and then waited until we were alone. “I want the dancer.”

  “What?”

  “I take that as a no.”

  “Senator—”

  “Salvador’s alliance with you seals his fate.”

  “But you’re friends with his father.”

  Felipe glared. “Meddling in my affairs has consequences.” His fingers tapped against his leg in that familiar frenetic rhythm.

  Stunned, I searched for words. “Wait . . . listen . . .”

  Felipe opened the door and with a thin smile, he turned and shrugged. “Your widow will become my whore.”

  He was gone before I could get to him.

  * * * *

  The guards dragged me across the foyer close behind Felipe, past the startled gazes of servants, to the edge of a courtyard where a large crowd had gathered.

  I panicked.

  There in the center, Salvador was in man-to-man combat with three soldiers and judging by his wounds and blood stained clothes, they’d been sparring for some time. Steal blades clanged. A whiff of sweat and blood carried. My legs almost gave way.

  “Hold back,” Felipe ordered his men.

  These were seasoned swordsmen, well-fed and rested. Salvador had no advantage and his balance was affected. I grappled with the guards to get free, but they tightened their grip. Salvador caught the scuffle and peered up and staggered. With a sweaty palm, he struggled to grasp the weapon’s hilt.

  “This is not the way a gentleman defends his honor,” I shouted at Felipe.

  “He has no honor,” Felipe said.

  “Let me fight with him.”

  “And ruin the entertainment value?” Felipe nodded to a six-year-old boy who watched from nearby.

  Ricardo, the child with my brother’s name and my sister’s eyes, ran to Felipe, clutching a small sword fashioned just for him.

  Having lived with Salvador for the majority of his early years, I wondered how Ricardo would react. Salvador had adopted him, caring for him as his own. The child didn’t understand and, wielding his sword, he stabbed at an invisible opponent.

  “Ricardo.” Felipe signaled to the boy. “Should your uncle fight?”

  “Say yes,” I pleaded.

  Ricardo frowned.

  Felipe laughed and turned to his soldiers. “Continue.”

  They beleaguered Salvador, thrusting their swords at him. One man closed in, while the other two stalked him from behind.

  “Don’t make the boy watch this.” I stumbled.

  A guard punched my stomach, winding me.

  Salvador caught one of his attackers and struck his arm. Blood poured from the man’s wound and his opponents forged ahead, inflicting viscous strikes. Salvador’s sword fell. They strode around him, closing in like animals.

  Felipe’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve outmaneuvered you both.”

  “Spare him.”

  “Your life for his?”

  “Yes.”

  “How noble.”

  Salvador brought his hand to his chest in a gesture of affection for me.

  “Salvador, raise your sword,” I shouted.

  His stare glazed over as a rapier sliced into his back, and he sunk to his knees, burying his face in the dirt.

  With a nod from Felipe, his men let me go and I sprinted into the center of the courtyard, skidded on my knees, and pulled Salvador into my arms. Blood poured from his wounds. I pressed against them, trying to cease the flow. Several of his fingernails were gone. They’d tortured him first.

  “Alicia?” Salvador rasped.

  “She’s safe.”

  “I told him nothing,” Salvador whispered.

  I glared at Felipe, full of hate.

  A scarlet line trickled from Salvador’s mouth and onto his chin, his breathing labored.

  My vision blurred with tears. “I’ve always loved you.”

  Salvador forced a smile and then his head fell against my chest, his eyelids half-closed.

  I rocked him into death.

  Salvador was ripped from me and the soldiers pulled his body to the edge of the courtyard. A sword landed near my feet.

  Everything felt surreal.

  Standing now, my shirt soaked with sweat and Salvador’s blood, I judged my assailants carefully. If I took out one man at a time, I could live through this.

  Taking the first attacker by surprise, my weapon slashed his thigh and he collapsed, badly wounded. Turning awkwardly, facing the man behind me, I defended his lunge, clashing metal against metal. A thrust and I had the other one down. One man remained.

  Two more soldiers stepped into the courtyard. A dreadful wave of futility caused my throat to constrict.

  A perfect life awaited me, but I’d thrown it away. Annabelle would be left vulnerable and my boys threatened.

  Felipe smiled.

&n
bsp; I was attacked from every angle. A blade cut into my side, knocking me off-balance, and I landed heavily. Dust sprayed up and was kicked into my eyes. Through gritty vision, my assailants gathered. I sprang to my feet and leaped back, ensuring distance between us. I hurled forward, swiftly striking another man who swayed to my right. The tip of my weapon sliced his forearm. A sharp stab tore into my lower back and another thrust into my right shoulder. Acute pain radiated. Another fierce strike to the back of my head threw me forward. Face down, taking small gasps, ignoring the torment of each breath, I tried to hold on. Desperate to save my sister and get back to my family, I fought unconsciousness.

  And lost.

  * * * *

  Bound to a large pillar positioned at the edge of the courtyard, I was unable to move. Sweat stung my eyes. My limbs were numb. A few torches provided some light, but not enough. The sword I’d used lay a few feet away and beside it stood Ricardo. He waved his own in the air.

  “I didn’t want you to miss this, Velde.” Felipe’s fingernails dug into my jaw and he raised my chin. “The handling of fine weaponry runs in the family. Your nephew shows great swordsmanship.” He motioned to Ricardo. “Provide your uncle with a demonstration.”

  Through bleary eyes, I focused in on the child’s sword and my chest muscles tightened, forcing air from my lungs. It was impossible to struggle.

  “Straight through the heart, boy.” Felipe stepped aside. “Swift and sure.”

  Ricardo hurtled toward me.

  Stupefied, I watched the silver tip penetrate my stomach and continue on through, searing, blinding agony as the point struck my spine.

  Somewhere far off, I heard the sound of cheers.

  “I shall have words with your teachers, boy.” Felipe’s voice was distant. “Their lessons in anatomy are lacking.”

  I prized open my eyes to see my blood gushing and staining the earth at my feet. Terrible numbness . . .

  Bound again in the mausoleum, a small, abandoned boy lay waste. I laughed with Annabelle. Heard Eduardo and Jacob but couldn’t see them.

  I craved one more embrace with them.

  An Andalusian cantered past.

  Dizziness. Blindness. Deafness. Drifting close to fatality, its spiraling momentum caught up, dragging me into nothingness.