“I killed him,” Roman answered in a toneless voice.
Armando was clearly shocked. “Why?”
“He destroyed our lives, so I destroyed him.”
“I see,” Armando said haltingly. “Yes, well, that is not so unusual.” Armando took a deep breath. “Can we talk, Roman? I feel that we have much in common.”
“You spoke of other vampires. Do they know about us?”
“No. Like I said, we keep to ourselves more often than not. I have been very lonely these last ten years. I would like to be with my own kind again.”
Roman stared at the stranger intently, trying to gauge his honesty. He turned to Alisha, who was slowly creeping across the hall. She stared at Armando intently, obviously trying to peer into his mind.
“Let him in,” Alisha replied to the unspoken question.
Roman stepped back from the door. “You may enter.”
Armando stepped over the threshold with a nod of his head. Withdrawing one hand from his trouser pocket, he extended it to Alisha. Alisha took his hand. Her face registered surprise when Armando raised their hands to his lips. His amber eyes met hers as he pressed his lips against her flesh. Alisha’s eyes narrowed, and she withdrew her hand.
“A pleasure, Miss Socoli,” he said brightly.
“I hope so,” Alisha answered warily.
Armando started toward Vanora, who was lingering near the staircase, but Roman caught hold of his arm.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. De Leon, I would prefer that you stay away from her for the time being,” Roman stated firmly.
“Of course. I understand.”
Armando followed them into Roman’s study and sat down in the leather chair offered to him. Alisha sat on the couch across from him and crossed her legs. She obviously didn’t trust the stranger at all. For that matter, Roman didn’t either. Armando exuded great confidence and an aura of mystery that made him very uncomfortable.
Roman sat at his desk, and Vanora scampered into the room to sit down next to him on a footstool. Roman was pleased to see that she was holding the stake. When he looked at Armando, he saw the other vampire’s lips turn up in amusement.
“Vanora, I think you should wait for me upstairs,” Alisha said.
“Roman, I want to stay here,” Vanora said, resting her hand on Roman’s wrist.
Alisha rolled her eyes, seeming to sense that Roman was going to relent to Vanora’s wishes.
“You can stay, but remain at my side.”
Vanora grinned and leaned her head against her brother’s arm.
Armando was watching all of them and Roman supposed the stranger was absorbing the dynamics of their family. Roman rested a fatherly arm on Vanora’s shoulders and let Armando see the steel in his gaze.
“I suppose you want to know more about why I am here?”
“You said something about being our friend,” Roman said blandly.
The smile faded from Armando’s face. “Yes, well, I think it is time to be very serious and honest. I am an old vampire looking for fresh life. I am bored with my existence. I have lived alone a long time, trying to fit into the world of the mortals. I have written several novels on the exploration and conquest of the Americas along with some non-fiction works under the name of Antonio Ferrer.”
Roman looked surprised. “I’ve read some of your books. Alisha gave me one for my birthday one year in fact. You are a very good writer,” he commented, his fingers toying with a pen on his desk.
“I am known for my great knowledge on the subject of the colonization of the Americas and I have even been praised for my great research. But I’ve researched nothing. I was there. Yes, I am that old. Over four-hundred years old. I have lost count of the exact number.”
“Four-hundred years old!” Vanora exclaimed. “God, that’s ancient!”
“Yes, I am. All of these years I have lived many lives, lived in many places. During my travels, I have been with our kind many times. But when I decided to become Antonio Ferrer, I cut myself off from them. I had to. I’d made the conscious decision to live openly in the mortal world. Many of our kind are too terrified to do such a thing. I could not live in secrecy anymore. There were twenty in my pack a decade ago. We had been together for close to a hundred years. We were all very wealthy, due to the fact that we have been hoarding jewelry and the like for centuries. We lived in an abandoned house, and I admit that we hunted in the ghettos for our prey. Then, one night, I just couldn’t live like that anymore. When I announced I was leaving, there was an intense fight among us. Vampires do not like to change from the old ways. Only nine of us survived the fighting. We split our money among us and I left. They went back to living their desolate lives. I claimed a trust I had set up for myself a hundred years before and discovered that I was richer than I ever imagined. I wrote a book, which sold. I moved into an apartment, bought a car, and entered into the world of mortals.”
“Amazing,” Alisha whispered, entranced by his story.
“A few years ago, I went looking for the other nine. They were all dead. Staked through the heart in the basement of the old house. I believe hunters found them.”
Alisha winced. “Oh, God.”
Roman was unsettled by the story. He gently stroked Vanora’s hair, the simple action calming him. “Hunters? Who are they?”
“You know, vampire hunters, like in the movies. Right?” Vanora cut in.
Armando smiled at her. “Exactly. For as long as there have been vampires, there have been hunters. It is wise to avoid them at all costs. Slaying a large number of humans is not recommended. The hunters always arrive when such killings occur.”
“We don’t drink human blood,” Alisha said.
Armando raised an eyebrow.
“Finish your story then I will tell you ours,” Roman said.
“It was then, looking at those bodies in that horrible house, that I knew I had been wise. In the old days, we had not been so frightened, but as the world became more modern, we were forced underground. Vampires lost their way in the new world and clung to the old. I have found many vampires over the years, but they were living desolate lives. I had given up hope of finding one of my own living as I do. You are the first vampires I have found living openly.” Armando sank into silence, his face pensive.
“We could never live such a bleak life,” Roman said softly.
“And we have Vanora to think about,” Alisha added.
“So that is why I am here,” Armando said after a beat. “To find new friends.”
The tension in the room gradually alleviated as Armando spoke in his accented, even tones. It didn’t take long for Roman to believe that this cultured elegant man was sincere. Armando was charming and likable, his eyes sparkling as he spoke, his words weaving a fascinating tale of an immortal man watching history unfold before him as he hid in the shadows.
20
Armando sat in the oversized leather chair sipping the red wine Alisha had offered him. The early hours of the morning were slipping away. Vanora was trying hard not to fall asleep, her head resting on Alisha’s shoulder. She was completely enraptured by the newcomer. In the grocery store, she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but now he seemed even more alluring. She loved the way he moved his long, elegant hands when he spoke and how his eyebrows arched at certain parts of his story.
“The old ways died for vampires as well as mortals when the new world was discovered. We came here seeking to escape the life we were confined to in the old world. A life rife with superstitions. We lived like animals in tombs and deserted churches, starving ourselves into madness, then roaming the night like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. The hunters slaughtered us at every turn. Then we came here and we, too, found freedom. But as mortals so often do, we once more fell into the old pattern of rules and codes of ethics. We fell back into that abyss and I would not follow. Once I was out of the dark life I had lived with my companions, I realized that my knowledge of history could be beneficial, not on
ly to myself but to others. That is when I started writing.”
“I wish I could write. I really like books. I haven’t read any of yours.” Vanora yawned.
“Well, should you ever want to know about the history of Spain and her influence in the Americas, you should read them,” Armando responded.
“She’s very much into her own Celtic ancestry,” Roman said wryly. “I don’t think any Romanian genes found their way into her. Or Alisha, for that matter. I call them my Celtic witches. Fascinating how sometimes one parent isn’t reflected in a child.”
“I am pure Spanish. I don’t understand dual backgrounds. However, Vanora does resemble some Romanians I’ve known. But then again, she looks somewhat like a Welshman I was once acquainted with,” Armando commented, then sipped his wine. His golden eyes studied Vanora with acute interest.
Her teenage hormones were getting the best of her and she knew it. Blushing under his gaze, she snuggled into Alisha’s side. There was no way he’d be interested in a dumb fourteen-year-old girl, but it was very different to crush on an older man—much, much older—than a stupid boy at school.
“You should go to bed now,” Roman suggested. “Your eyes keep closing.”
Vanora stood up wearily. “Fine. Tyrant.”
“Teenagers are so dramatic,” Roman said to Armando.
“I’m now remembering that,” Armando admitted, grinning.
Vanora leaned over and kissed her sister’s cheek. “Good night, Alisha.”
“Until tomorrow.” Alisha embraced Vanora lovingly.
Vanora wrapped her arms around Roman’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Roman.”
Roman kissed her on both of hers. “Don’t forget your prayers.”
“In this house! Are you kidding?” Vanora rolled her eyes. On impulse, she walked over to Armando and extended her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Armando.”
Armando stood up and bowed slightly over their handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Vanora.” His golden eyes stared into hers with a dark, searching intensity that was slightly unsettling.
Vanora jerked her hand away, averting her eyes. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she escaped up the stairs to her room and locked her bedroom door behind her. Her body was shivering. Sitting down at her vanity, Vanora stared at her reflection. Her long, white blond hair spilled over her shoulders and framed her face, which was very flushed. Armando had done something to her that no one else ever had. He had made her realize that she was becoming a woman.
* * *
Armando let himself into his penthouse apartment, his keys jingling in his fingers. That must have alerted Carlotta because she swung the door wide open. The vampire stood before him in a frothy red negligee made of yards of satin and lace. Even though it did not reveal much flesh, it clung to her curves sensuously. Her long raven hair fell into a tumble of curls down to her waist, and the comb in her hand indicated she had been busy combing it out.
“Where were you?” she demanded in her rich accent.
“I told you,” Armando responded as he pushed past her.
Carlotta slammed the door shut, her dark eyes flashing. “You tell me nothing. You just left.”
Armando sighed, pulling off his black overcoat. “You knew I went to meet with that vampire.”
“The one you’ve been spying on? He’s nothing,” Carlotta responded, dismissing him with her hand. “He knows nothing. He is nothing. He is not important.”
Armando raised an eyebrow. “He must be if I was told to meet with him. Besides, I found him interesting. So was his sister. I found them to be...inspiring.”
Carlotta sighed dramatically. She was an incredible beauty. Her dark exotic looks, her seductively voluptuous figure, and sultry manner made her alluring. Being a vampire made her irresistible. She strode into the middle of the enormous living room decorated all in black and white and picked up a magazine she had been looking at.
“According to this, I should leave you,” she said with a playful smile. “I took this test in the magazine and it says you’re an asshole.”
Armando scoffed at her. “You shouldn’t read such trash.”
“I don’t read your books.”
Armando refused to be baited. He was used to Carlotta’s fiery moods. She loved to fight with him when she was in a bad mood. He attributed it to the fact that she was a gypsy.
Carlotta drew near, her eyes drawing him into their depths. “Why do you need to know them?”
Armando poured himself some wine. “Why ask questions you already know the answer to? And, like I said, I find them intriguing. They are not trapped by preconceived notions of how we are to act.”
“They amuse you.”
“They’re very mortal.”
Carlotta took his glass from his hand and sipped the wine, her eyes studying him. “You do things I don’t understand.”
“That is the way it will always be,” Armando responded with a shrug.
Carlotta handed the glass back to him thoughtfully. “Maybe I would like to meet them.”
“I think they are far too boring for your taste,” Armando replied slyly.
“Did you tell them of the others? Of him?”
Armando shook his head. “I told them a little about the other vampires. The rebel vampires only. He doesn’t want them to know about him or the vampire world. He wants them to be isolated and watched. I concur. Let them be on their own. Let them find their own pack. Besides, the others are hardly ever around. And those here in the States are mostly rebels, and they keep to their own packs.”
Carlotta nodded in agreement. “They sound so young and naive.”
“That’s what I like about them. They are full of ideas, revolutionary ones. They aren’t hindered by what they think they should be. It’s refreshing.”
Carlotta tossed her head and strode into the bedroom. A large canopy bed draped in dark blue velvet dominated the room. It was very old and very ornate. She crawled onto it and arranged her robes around her. Armando followed, deep in thought. Carlotta’s dark eyes studied his brooding form silently.
It amused Armando when she tried to figure him out. She truly didn’t know him. He preferred it that way. Ever since he had stumbled across her all those hundreds of years ago, their relationship had been extremely complicated and yet so simple. They would fight with such intense hatred they’d almost kill each other and the next moment love each other with the passion only vampires could express.
Tonight, her dark gaze was verging on cruelty.
“You’re making me nervous,” Armando said suddenly, startling her.
“Why?”
“You’re too quiet. A dangerous sign.”
“I’m thinking about how we met so long ago.”
“That again?” He couldn’t help but smile. “You scared the hell out of me when you jumped out of that tree I was riding under.”
“I wanted you,” Carlotta responded flippantly, her eyes intense. “I made you mine.”
Armando started to undress. “Yes, I suppose in one sense you did.”
“I don’t intend to ever let you go,” Carlotta continued.
Armando lifted an eyebrow. “What if I decide to leave?”
“You won’t.” Carlotta stretched out on the bed with cat-like movements.
Armando tossed his shirt and jacket over a chair and sat beside her on the bed. Leaning toward her, his eyes capturing hers, he said, “You are far too sure of yourself.”
“Perhaps, but I know you need me just as much as I need you,” Carlotta responded, rolling over and resting her head on his lap. She gazed up at him seductively. “We are two of a kind.”
“I don’t think so.”
Carlotta snapped her body upright. “Why do you say that?”
“You, my dear, hardly know me,” Armando declared, his golden eyes appraising her coldly.
“I know you better than anyone!” Carlotta protested.
“So you think,” Armando corrected.
&
nbsp; “So I know!”
Armando stood up and finished undressing. “Are you staying?”
Carlotta was flustered by his question. “Of course! It’s too close to dawn for me to make it home.”
“Very well.” Armando made sure the curtains were tightly closed while Carlotta sat fuming.
“I do know you well!” Carlotta abruptly shouted.
“You share my bed, not my mind..”
“You are trying to provoke me, you damn Spanish bastard!” Carlotta fumed.
Armando narrowed his eyes. “I was merely telling you the truth.”
Carlotta screamed with rage and yanked the curtains of the canopy closed.
Armando grinned. He felt like ticking off the volatile gypsy. For some reason, he was feeling extremely contrary. The evening’s visit had made him think of people and places that were long gone and of emotions he had long thought dead. Still smirking, he finished dressing in his silk pajama bottoms.
The phone rang abruptly, and he quickly snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Did you contact the Socolis?” The voice was one he knew well. It still had the power to make him feel utterly helpless.
“Yes, I did.”
“And the girl? Has she been brought over?”
“No, she is mortal. Her brother and sister are caring for her.”
“Are you sure they won’t try to try to bring her over?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they won’t. They seem to hate being vampires and have an aversion to even acknowledging that they’ve entered the dark life. They live as mortals and still think as mortals.”
Vampire in the Night: In Darkness We Must Abide, #1 Page 12
