Part 40 (1/2)

”Let me go, Leandro,” she whispered, stopping in her struggles to hang as dead weight. ”You are home now. You have no use for me. Just, let me go.”

”I have much use for you,” he said in foreboding. A feminine shriek of alarm sounded beneath them, echoing the hall. They ignored it. His hand lifted, stroking with mock adoration over Tatiana's face as his eyes swirled with dark pa.s.sions. ”You are my vengeance.”

”You were human once, Leandro.” Tatiana's face pleaded with him, though her tone was soft. ”Have you no feeling left in you?”

”Ah, but I've been vampire longer,” he chuckled, much amused by her defense. ”How can I explain? If you worked one day of your life shoveling dung, would that make you a dung shoveler for an eternity?”

”Another one of your beloved sayings?” Tatiana spat, snarling back at him. ”Wherever can I write this down?”

”My lord?”

Tatiana and Leandro's eyes turned down to the floor. A nervous young woman no older than sixteen stood there. Her auburn hair was pulled neatly back from her very white face. She trembled violently, eyeing the floating couple. Tears poured over her cheeks.

”I ... I was told,” the girl mumbled in an English thick with Ireland. She made a weak sound. ”I was told I must let you ... drink my ... feed.”

”Go away!” Leandro roared, his voice sounding as if the devil were carried over in it. ”I have no use for you tonight.”

The girl jolted in alarm and took off running the way she'd come. Tatiana felt the girl's fear and also her relief. When Leandro's eyes turned back to her, she said mockingly, ”You act like quite the G.o.d, don't you, Leandro? Such the all powerful vampire having to have little girls brought before him like human sacrifices. Tell me, for I have yet to see you take a grown man with your fangs. Can all you do is frighten women and children?”

Leandro snarled at her. Then, glancing down, he grinned--an evil, wicked look of malice. Tatiana's eyes widened right before he let her go. Her body fell onto the hard marble floor with a loud smack. She lay there, sore but not broken, glaring up at the vampire who floated contemptuously above her.

Marcello looked around the dark mountain ranges of Tuscany. They looked as he remembered them, though he had not seen them since the time immediately after his rebirth. Some of the old houses were there, altered a bit by time and generations, but still standing in ruin. Other things had changed--a paving of an old country road where he used to race his horse against Leandro, trees where an old cottage had been, modernized buildings that detracted from the beauty he'd known in his human youth.

A chill swept through him and he turned to Alice with a grimace. The spirit simply wouldn't leave him be. If he wasn't mistaken, the transparent face glowered back at him. Usually Alice was serene, merely fading and materializing next to him at odd moments, never speaking. He'd grown used to her, finding bored amus.e.m.e.nt in swiping his hand through her until she'd get so irritated she'd leave him alone. Once, in a fit of frustration over just having missed Tatiana and Leandro, he threw a vase at her head. She'd disappeared for a week and he had almost doubted she would return to him. But return she did, keeping her distance.

It was odd, seeing his homeland after nearly a century of being away. But, even after so long a time, he could still feel the connection his spirit had to the land. The rich soil was in his bones, the fresh mountain air in his blood, and not time nor death could take it from him. He felt the land of his mortal youth calling out to him, welcoming him back. Marcello sighed. The vampire had finally come home.

Tatiana's jade eyes stared listlessly into the large mirror before her. The cream colored gown Leandro gave her to wear sent a wave of apprehension over her. Beneath the rich silk, over the thin chemise, she wore a tight corset reinforced with stiff whalebone. A maid had laced it up the back, so tight she was sure she was going to faint.

The bodice was square and deep, leaving nothing of her cleavage to the imagination. The back of the gown was simple, with a long cape-like piece of material flowing from the square cut neckline to the floor, giving no hint of her shape from the back view. The sleeves were tight from shoulder to elbow, fanning out in silk pleats over the top of the forearm. It was an antiquated style, one she remembered from her vision of Marcello's past.

The large, belled skirt fanned out from her hips. It was heavy and she felt weighted down by the numerous petticoats, which were held out to the sides with a hooped petticoat support of bent wood. The gown's skirt was decorated with elaborate pleats of silk. Due to the unfamiliar shape of the skirt, Tatiana was afraid she would have to walk sideways through the narrow doors of the castle's top level lest she get wedged between the frames.

Tatiana turned her eyes, watching the silent maid's old wrinkled hands on her hair. She'd stuck a pad beneath the locks, building them high up top and pinning tight curls to the side in horizontal rows. The maid was human, as was all of Leandro's staff. The servants didn't seem to mind their place within his home. It was a curious thing. Whereas they showed no pleasure in their master, they also showed no fear. None of them spoke to her above a few polite words. Occasionally, they would look at her with a curiosity that they soon hid beneath their blank gazes.

Tatiana grimaced at her reflection. She lifted her fingers to touch her pale face, made even more so by the dark contrast of her hair. She felt like a porcelain doll, dressed up for the vampire who now controlled her like a child commands a new toy--with fascination and selfish pleasure.

”Leave.”

Tatiana jumped up in surprise at the command. Only then did she realize the maid was finished with her hair. The woman curtsied and walked from the room without a backward glance. Leandro's eyes were expressionless as he let them roam over her attire. Slowly, he nodded.

”What sport is this?” Tatiana asked.

Instead of answering, his eyes turned to the bright fireplace casting an orange glow about his bedchamber. Though he bid Tatiana to sleep by his side during the day, he had yet to force himself on her. Instead of a master bed, there was a large coffin upon a platform. She'd been shocked to see it, though what else should she have expected?

A large fur rug lined the stone floor, a chamber that was richly designed with medieval influence. Unlike the rest of his home, this room still had the appearance of what it once was--the chambers of a long dead Lord of the Manor. Instead of paper or paint, the walls were lined with dark blue tapestries, woven with designs of golden thread.

”It is almost time,” Leandro whispered, a small look of hesitance coming to his face when he turned back to her. The declaration brought him little pleasure and she was sure she saw a little pity in his dark eyes when he looked her over.

”Ah,bella donna , how beautiful you look like that.”