Futile Flame

by Sam Stone

  ‘We’re clearly all related,’ Lilly points out. ‘But Gabi says there’s no connection to the Borgias in his family tree.’

  ‘Yet somehow here we are,’ Lucrezia says thoughtfully. ‘You look so incredibly familiar to me. I can’t explain why. It’s almost as if...’

  ‘The answer may lie in your story,’ I interrupt. ‘You were born a hundred years before me, right?’

  The old woman sitting at the table next to ours starts to choke on her milky tea and I realise that I have been speaking too loudly. Lilly and Lucrezia both giggle. I look from one to the other of them; this is way too strange, even for me.

  ‘The surgery was very good,’ Lilly puts in. ‘You can’t tell that you’re five hundred at all.’

  Lucrezia laughs louder and the people at other tables begin to look around at us. The girls smile at each other as their laughter subsides. This is going better than I expected. I feel a slight twinge as Lilly pats Lucrezia’s hand.

  ‘Gabi’s told me what you’ve said so far. Word for word. Curse of the vampire brain, I expect. He has OCD. How about you?’

  Lilly takes a bite out of a caramel shortbread she’s ordered. They are sickly things and have never appealed to me but Lilly loves chocolate and caramel. And why not? She need never worry about ruining her waistline as our weight never alters no matter how much we eat.

  ‘Yes. I’m very OCD. I’m not sure whether it’s from living alone though, or whether it is a by-product of our condition. Your development over the next few years will be very interesting, Lilly.’

  Lilly grins, and fixes Lucrezia with a stare. ‘So how does the story continue? What happened to the lovely Joanna?’

  Chapter 21 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Joanna’s Blood

  As I waited for her return I lay on Joanna’s bed, lulled and invigorated by the moonlight as it bled through the open window. The balcony curtains shivered slightly as a night breeze wafted in. Outside in the street beyond the wall, a group of revellers passed by and began to hush each other in drunken loud whispers.

  ‘Justice Adimari lives there. For God’s sake, keep it down. Don’t give any reason for his guard to come out.’

  The men drifted on, sobered slightly by the realisation of the danger of the faux pas they almost made. I lay there wondering what I was going to do when Joanna returned. Her sheets smelt of her. The room was infused with her aura. I smelt her blood and her sensual life force as I lay like a lioness ready to pounce.

  Several hours passed before she returned, tired and listless, to her room. She did not even light a candle to find her way, but merely moved across the room, discarding her clothing down to her shift. Then she slid into the bed beside me, unaware of my presence. I lay unmoving, smelling the sweet scent of red wine on her breath mingled with her youthful blood. She drifted into a deep sleep within moments.

  I waited until I heard her breathing deepen and even out, and until her body was completely still. Then I rose from the bed and stood over her. I could feel my pointed fangs pricking my lower lip. They were so large and long that my gums ached. They needed blood before they would retract and I considered taking her as she slept. It would, after all, be the safest thing. As I scrutinised her face, her simple prettiness charmed me and for a moment I didn’t realise that she had opened her eyes and was gazing up at me.

  ‘Beautiful fairy,’ she murmured. ‘Come to grant me three wishes...’

  I froze, expecting her to wake fully, to realise I was an intruder, for her screams to echo through the house. However she sighed and turned over onto her side as her eyes drifted closed again.

  ‘Yes. I’ve come to grant you three wishes,’ I whispered, kneeling beside the bed. ‘But first I need a kiss.’

  Joanna offered her lips like an innocent child kissing her mother. As my lips pressed against hers I felt the red lust surge through me once more. That same sensation of sexual need that drew me to take Lena’s life, plunged from me into Joanna and made her swoon in my arms. Her mouth opened and I kissed her long and passionately, my tongue exploring her mouth. She tasted of red wine and brandy. She rolled onto her back and I pulled away the neckline of her chemise, exposing her slender throat and the tip of one small breast. Her hand ran through my hair and she pulled me back down to her willing mouth.

  I showered kisses over her, enjoying the sensation of her pleasure which echoed back to me through every touch. It was like feeling double the passion, hers and mine. I effortlessly ripped her clothing down the middle, looked at the beauty of her pert breasts and found myself kissing and sucking them in passionate worship of her young female form. She groaned under my hands and tongue and lips. My kisses moved lower. I wanted to explore her body in the way that I had never been permitted with another woman.

  I knew the male form intimately, had been forced to pleasure it many times over. Now I wondered what made a woman feel pleasure. I’d experienced moments of excitement and sensation at the hands of various lovers, but only with Caesare in the early days had I ever experienced an orgasm. I wanted to show Joanna that feeling. I wanted to pleasure her and enjoy touching her body freely in return.

  My lips traced her stomach. By now my gums throbbed so much I felt physical pain. The fangs wanted to be fed, but I wanted this to last. I kissed down, remembering the loving way that Caesare had brought me like this and I kissed and licked and worshipped Joanna. She groaned and thrashed beneath me. I pulled back and looked at her. She was beautiful, neat and clean. A man would destroy that. I wanted to be her lover, wanted to be the one to take her virginity and teach her love and so I slid my finger gently inside her.

  She froze a little, so I stopped and continued licking her until she opened and relaxed under me again. My finger massaged deeper; I could feel the skin there barring my way and I knew she was mine to take. Her hips rocked against my mouth as I pushed my finger farther. She gasped, and bucked in pain and pleasure. I removed my finger. I smelt the blood and I was lost.

  I turned my head, burying it in her groin, where I found the vein, my fangs burying themselves deep, even as she shuddered and groaned beneath me. Her blood flooded into my mouth almost too fast for me to swallow and I gulped her down. Another orgasm shook her as I fed and her moisture gushed forward and covered my cheek as it pressed against her. I continued to feed, enjoying the sensation of her blood and secretions covering my face and neck, until I felt her slip into a coma beneath me.

  There was no doubt in my mind that she was dead. I lay between her legs until her body started to cool. I felt stronger again. My fangs had retracted as the blood had started to flow, no longer needed. I sat up and looked at Joanna and I knew then I really was a monster. I may as well eat babies. Nausea pulled once more at my insides.

  Driven by this insane lust, I was no better than my brother. I had been led here by my need, my obsession, and I had raped and destroyed this girl. No matter how willing she had seemed, she had not understood nor consented to my intrusion. This evil power had made me into Caesare and all I wanted to do was die.

  I began to moan and then to scream. The household woke and even the sound of feet running towards the room could not stop me. I threw myself on the floor and waited for the Justice and his family to enter to see what I had done to their lovely daughter, to see what sort of creature had defiled and killed her. As servants and soldiers burst into the room, I continued to wail like a woman possessed.

  Joanna’s blood had made me insane.

  Chapter 22 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Justice

  News travelled fast in the countryside. The stories told of the insane woman who had murdered the Justice’s beautiful daughter. I was flogged. I bled. I healed as soon as my clothing was placed over my beaten body. No one noticed, but there were rumours that I was a witch or demon. I even heard the word ‘succubus’ whispered through the walls of the gaol into which I was thrown. As I lay healing on the cold cell floor I wondered if that was indeed what I had become.

  Soon t
he torture began. The Justice was always present, his mouth tight as he whispered his questions to the executioner to relay to me.

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘Who helped you?’

  ‘Why did you kill Joanna Adimari?’

  ‘Who put you up to it?’

  ‘Are you a witch?’

  I never answered and although the torture hurt, it was bearable. They got no satisfaction from me. Even when the executioner gave me to his men, I never spoke. I let them rape me, one after another. Then they beat me, burned me with hot irons, laughed when I screamed as the fire bit viciously into my flesh. I felt I deserved to die and I wanted to test the level of pain I could endure. But their blows were little worse than the sensation of pins and needles. They couldn’t hurt or injure me irreparably, no matter how much my skin blistered or how much of my blood was spilled.

  ‘Lord,’ said the executioner quietly outside my cell on one occasion. ‘We’ve observed some strange things about this woman, not least her ability to heal. She seems charmed.’

  ‘She’s in league with the devil,’ the Justice said. ‘A demon. Succubus. The only thing we can do is to burn her at the stake.’

  I smiled at this. Let them do what they would. I was a monster. I deserved it.

  Within a week of murdering Joanna I was taken to the town square and tied to a wooden stake mounted above a large pile of sticks and kindling. All along I knew I could escape – I doubted that even ten men could hold me – but I was unafraid. I wanted to die. I wanted to be burned and to go to hell like the evil being I was. So I allowed them to tie me up and I waited for justice to be done.

  I stood before the crowd, dressed in rags, waiting for the flame to be lit. The crowd jeered and spat at me. Cries of ‘witch’, ‘whore’ and ‘murderer’ all floated around me, but I did not respond or look my tormentors in the eye. Instead I bowed my head and meditated. I expected to feel the pain of the fire and wanted it to purge me and purify the evil from my life. My thoughts were full of the injustice of all I had survived. But my end was fitting.

  I didn’t notice, until he spoke, that a Catholic priest stood before me to administer the last rites.

  ‘Do you atone for your sins?’ the man asked.

  ‘I lived in Rome, and there is no greater sinner than he who sits on the Papal seat. You hypocritical Christian, do you really think your God can save me now? Your God damned me. He gave me over to the devil to use as his concubine. I no longer believe in Him, nor worship Him. Your God made me what I am, now burn me, and be damned.’

  The priest and the crowd stepped back, shocked by my words though they were delivered calmly. The crowd became more afraid and their fear vibrated through the air. I fed on it, enjoyed it. It zipped through my blood and invigorated me. My gums twitched and I felt the pricking of my fangs.

  ‘Burn her!’ someone shouted, and soon the crowd was rowdy and full of bravado.

  ‘I killed Joanna,’ I yelled above their terrified shouts. ‘I fed on her blood.’ I smiled a terrible smile, silencing them. ‘Now burn me damn you, or I’ll rise from this fragile binding and take all of your pathetic little lives, starting with your daughters.’

  The torch bearer ran forward on impulse and threw his blazing torch into the pile of wood. The crowd began to cheer as the dry wood caught and the flames gathered into a rapidly spreading fire that headed straight towards me. I laughed like some sinister demon as their fear reverberated through my body feeding me every bit as potently as their blood would have.

  I felt the flames lick around my ankles first, and my instinct was to tear free and run away. The fire touched the rags that covered me and quickly took flight. The clothing burned from my body, and the flames caressed my skin. It was the worst agony I had ever experienced and I howled in pain.

  ‘Burn, demon!’ the crowd roared.

  The fire felt like the heat of the sun had stretched across the world and was flaying the skin from my body. I screamed again. The crowd cheered louder. I glanced down through the flames and saw my skin blacken and burn. I felt the intense agony of the exposed veins and blood beneath sizzling and cracking as the fat caught fire. Then miraculously, as fast as I burned, my skin healed. I burned again, healed again. The pain was excruciating. But always when the blood flowed, my skin healed. It was then I knew. I couldn’t be burnt; I could never die. The flames were higher now, almost to my face. It burnt my breasts, my skin blackened and shrivelled as I screamed. I felt I was losing my mind from the intense and constant pain. Then my body would rebuild once more only to burn again.

  It had to stop. The flame was futile. It would never destroy me. I shifted my body through the spectrum so that it became one with the fire. At the same time, a coldness seeped into my skin which stopped all aspects of the fire from eating my flesh further. To the crowd it must have looked as though the fire had consumed me. I screamed louder for effect. But it no longer hurt at all. I slipped out of the charred ropes and walked down through the centre of the fire, naked, burnt and invisible. As I left the pyre my body shifted again and I became one with the dark night.

  I heard the pounding of horses’ hooves riding full pelt towards the pyre. I stopped and watched as a group of riders entered the square. The leader dismounted and tore off the scarf which had protected his face during the ride. It was Caesare! He stared with horror at the furiously burning fire. Already the wood was little more than glowing embers. He fell to his knees, his hands knuckled against his temples and his body shaking. I watched as he sobbed and cried at my apparent demise. Obviously he had heard the stories and realised that I must have been the cause, coming as soon as he could to try and rescue his beloved. His tears went unnoticed by the priest and the villagers as they loudly began to sing psalms as though exorcising the devil from the very air. Their zealous religion, so pathetic now to my immortal gaze, seemed like some bizarre and foreign cult. It was a fitting end to my official life.

  Still cloaked in darkness I turned my back on Caesare and began to limp calmly from the village. My legs were badly burnt but each step saw them heal further and soon I was able to run. As I reached the outskirts of the town I hurried silently into the surrounding forest and away from the scene of my crime, leaving behind the ashes that would make my brother believe I was dead and would ensure my freedom away from him. As I entered the woods I glanced down at my hands and watched with fascination as the final burns healed. Joanna’s sweet blood had given me more power, I was sure. It had granted me this amazing healing ability. What would my next victim do for me?

  Chapter 23 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Rome

  Rome greeted me silently as I instinctively lurked in shadows for fear of being recognised, despite the fact that no one could see me. The city felt alien. Even as I stepped over the threshold of the sentry point I knew I needed to leave Italy as soon as possible if I was to be certain that Caesare wouldn’t hear of me again. I was afraid to be recognised for then he would learn I had survived the fire. My first thought was of finding transport quickly and then I realised I had no money to pay for passage.

  Still naked, I walked along the harbour at Fumicino unseen. Invisibility had its advantages in all ways, but I was beginning to feel weaker from using it too much. I knew I would have to feed again soon. But for now I enjoyed the buzz of walking among the unique assemblage of characters that inhabited the docks. I was in the company of sailors, merchants and whores for the first time in my life. There was a strange excitement in my heart as I realised I was seeing a world previously denied me. It was the thrill of the voyeur.

  I breathed in the smell of the dock. It was intoxicating. Some would say it stank. Along the pier the smell of cooked and burnt food mingled with the strong odour of rotting fish guts, which wafted from the moored fishing boats. A sailor brushed by me; his aura tasted of stale sweat and urine. I almost gagged on the stench of the place. My sense of smell was as heightened as my other senses and I had to place my hand over my mouth and nose in o
rder to block some of the overpowering reek. Then I focused my mind to ignore it and to my pleasure the odour receded. My abilities were growing day by day.

  I stood on the dock and looked around. My attention was caught by a bearded merchant in flamboyant, expensive clothing shouting instructions to a small group of young boys.

  ‘Quicker, or I’ll take the time you waste from your pay, you lazy young scoundrels,’ he yelled.

  The boys glanced at him. I recognised hunger in their gaunt and pale faces as they looked up at him. He’d hired them to move his wares to a cart; the boxes were heavy and they struggled to move them in their malnourished, weakened state. The merchant was a particularly deserving donor as my deft fingers relieved him of his substantial purse. I didn’t wait to see the boys’ anger when they realised he couldn’t pay them, but I walked away smiling at the thought, after carefully slipping some coins into the pockets of each boy. They shivered as my fingers brushed their worn clothing but my coldness was little worse than the day offered them anyway.

  Stealing was easy. Too easy. So I took more purses as I moved unseen through the harbour. Then I began to feel tired and drained. I had to find clothing. With money that should be easy. But you had to be dressed in order to enter a store to obtain clothing. The solution eluded me for a while.

  I left the docks and watched numbly as carriages and horses passed by on the road that lead into the town and farther into Rome itself. I felt like a ghost looking into the world of the living but never able to enter it. It was easy to believe I didn’t exist whilst invisible. As I watched the wealthy take their constitutional drives through the streets of Rome, I believed that this world was forever closed to me.