Vengeance

Even as a child, Alessa had never felt the compulsion for the docks that Lara had. The city of her birth held no charm for her, and this place in particular repelled her, rife as it was with memories she would have preferred to forget.

She had meant to leave that night, her quest concluded. And yet here she was, and what had driven her to this spot she could not say, moving like a ghost among the uncompassionate decay that once had been the playgrounds of her childhood. Her heritage was rooted here, submerged beneath these cobbled avenues, emanating from the muted glow of the iron lamp posts and the ancestral breath of rain-bogged earth, masked now by exhaust and neglect.

The heritage of another time.

And coming to this place of dim pain, she stopped, her feet caressing the crumbling stone of the seawall. It was here, on this very spot, in what seemed so many lifetimes ago, that her once-carefree youth had been sacrificed to a profane love, dooming the future to an unrealized past.

An oil barge thundered into the harbor, its belly heavy with crude, and her mind drifted back to a different age, when the creaking of wood and the whisper of canvas were the only sounds to herald an arrival from the sea.

The ship passed through the harbor, its wake dredging up a forsaken ache for simpler times. Times when there were still dreams of hope and sunlight.

Times she would trade her immortal soul to regain.

“Alessa.”

The voice oozed from the darkness, pure and tremulous. Real, and yet…so unnatural. Not a mortal voice at all. And she, so lost in those long ago thoughts, had not even felt his approach.

She turned now, a shiver of lust coursing through her veins.

His face was still swathed in shadow, though every feature was ingrained in her senses. The broad sweep of the shoulders, the careless rake of ebony hair across the high forehead, the thick slash of brows that could offer the impression of sublime intelligence one minute, and savage ferocity the next.

In the darkness his eyes glowed like cut glass. Gypsy eyes, she once had called them. It had been too long, but the memory returned with all its former potency.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, her own voice sounding small in his presence. He stepped forward; long, delicate fingers stretching for her.

“A while. A dozen or so years, I suppose.” A wave of doubt rolled at him from her. “He sent me. To watch…wait.”

She didn’t need to be told the subject of his vigilance, nor even his choice of locations. With the exception of motive, his purpose was essentially the same as her own. Sooner or later, even the most reclusive of creatures must resurface. For a maverick like Lara, it was inevitable. Despite the danger it implied, they both knew she would not be able to resist the temptation to return to the scene of her most irreverent conquest. It was the same dauntless audacity that had inspired her pursuit of the love of her youth. The same impertinence that had sparked Alessa’s insidious infatuation. No wonder the Maker had sent his most trusted protegé to retrieve her. If anyone could convince Lara to surrender her unsanctioned autonomy, it would be Danté.

“So you’ve been here…all this time?”

He nodded, releasing her, moving with that lithe grace that characterized their kind. He stepped onto the seawall, the backdrop of light-spattered water framing him like a modern Zeus. He belonged in these settings, in the world of mortal time, as he called it. Back in the Maker’s citadel, he had been one among many, but here he was a god. It wasn’t so much in his stature or his strength, or even the debilitating effect of his gaze.

No, with him, it was an aura. An undeniable manifestation of raw, omnipotent power. Even she was not immune to it.

“Tell me, Alessa,” he pressed deliberately. “Are those your indiscretions I’ve been reading about in the paper?”

She was stung by the question. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” She shook her head. “We both know who is responsible.”

He muttered something about the imprudence of fledglings, of unbridled passions. “A danger to us all,” he concluded with a meaningful glance.

Another reproach. She let it pass, satisfied for the moment merely to be with him again. Too many years had separated them, and even the most potent of recollections can dim with time. But he was here now, clad in his trademark black; a sports coat of good taste and current fashion. A turtle neck sweater and slacks. Perhaps a bit overdressed for the climate, but for a creature such as himself, whose only reference to heat was the warmth in his veins, it was an unnecessary concern.

He had turned back to the water, his gaze scraping the surface like a laser, aware at once of the kaleidoscope of life that teamed within its inky bowels, and inhaled deeply, sucking in its damp breath, suddenly overcome by the realization that he would indeed miss it when his task here was complete.

The sea was in his childhood, now so many centuries past. Long-forsaken memories reduced to fragmented impressions. An ageless wind, whispering to him of the mysteries of life above the chill dance of unforgiving tides. Never a ripple about the secrets his fate would reveal.

A sailor, he’d been. A warrior. Young and strong and fearless. But he had relinquished all that when he was captured and brought into the realm of the Maker. There he had learned fear and obedience, but also love. And eventually, when he was deemed worthy, power.

It wasn’t the forensic definition of the word; the acquisition of men and gold and property. No, the power he’d learned about in those early years was the release from the bonds of human regret, of mankind’s self-contrived morality. It was the absolute power of a superior will over a weaker one.

When his time had come, it was without recrimination that he had bade farewell to the impotence of his former existence and embraced the Maker’s creed.

And yet, at times such as this, an unspecific yearning would tug at him. A craving for answers that never had been found. For revelations that, despite his command and sagacity, still eluded him, buried somewhere deep within that undulating womb of life.

Perhaps that was as it should be, for he was no longer a part of life’s fabric, and even mortality must be allowed its secrets.

He sighed, shaking his head, nearly forgetting his companion, but her presence intruded upon his thoughts now.

Sweet Alessa; in so many ways, still so young. He hoped the impressions he was receiving from her now were wrong. Her loss would pain him to the end of time.

Many lovers he had taken over the years, fledglings whose transitions were nurtured by his tainted trust, but there was something different about this one; lover, daughter, sister. Never before had he experienced such a kinship.

He had recognized it for what it was long ago: a dangerous thing. A thing that could drive him to disobedience. That was why he had agreed to leave the ancestral home of his kind and re-enter the mortal world when the Maker had suggested it. Perhaps He, too, had recognized the potential.

And now she was here, and all the old feelings were returning. He had thought himself beyond all of that. It was demeaning for one such as himself to fall prey to this weakness.

He wanted her to go, and yet he was drawn to her like a moth to light. Drawn to her rabid vitality, to her voracious lust for life. In her arms, he no longer felt like the ancient thing he had become. In her arms, he was young again. He was, once again, the warrior.

Wrong. All wrong.

“Why are you here, Alessa?”

“He sent me. To find Renaud.”

His eyes alone told her he did not believe. Renaud was nearly his contemporary, and a notorious renegade, even for their kind. Many had tried, but none had succeeded in returning the mutinous deviant to the fold.

“No,” he told her. “We both know you’re not ready for that. Now tell me the truth.”

She avoided his eyes, cloaking her thoughts, and he marveled at her newfound strength despite the anxiety it caused him. Had it been so long?

“I thought if I found him, He would reward me.”

“Your reward will come when you prove that you are ready,” he replied, making his voice sound hard.

“I am ready.” She moved closer, her eyes pulling his to her. “And I found him, though he’s gone now for all time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been away a long time, Danté. I’ve learned a great many things. How to create…and destroy.” She smiled at the wonder in his eyes now. “I took his head.”

He grabbed her again, the tenderness gone from his touch. Rage flashed in his eyes, but it was fear that pulsed through his veins. Fear for her.

“You know only the Old Ones have the power to destroy.”

She jerked free, her eyes defiant. “Why? I’ve developed my power. And now I have his as well.”

“Fool. Have you no idea of the consequences of your actions?”

“I had to do it,” she interrupted. “He was going to destroy her.”

He stopped, the retort snagged in his throat. “Lara?” She nodded, reveling in the momentary victory. “So…you've seen her?”

“We are together again.”

So, that explained her presence. Alessa had been reunited with the only creature who could replace him in her dark heart; the creature whose untempered lust had delivered her to this life. Yes, he could smell the change in her now; strange that he had not noticed before. Well, as much as it pained him to disappoint her, he would not be deterred from his task. The Maker wanted Lara, and so He would have her. There would be no negotiation on this point, even if it was Renaud who had cast the original stone. Lara’s fate, like that of her unruly sire, belonged to the Maker.

He met her eyes, an expression of pure evil slashing his handsome features, and Alessa acknowledged a momentary pang of pity for any soul unfortunate enough to fall prey to the spell of his beauty. His was not a will accustomed to being challenged.

“I’ll share her with you, Danté,” she offered, measuring his intent. A peace offering; the spoils of victory?

He snorted impatiently. “You know I no longer indulge in such things.”

“Ah, come now, my love. Even you haven’t grown that cold.” Her fingers traced the hard line of his chin, bringing a reluctant curl to his lip. “You would taste of me now, would you not?”

Treacherous creature. He snatched her hand, bringing it to his lips, unable to stifle the rush of pleasure her words sent through him. “Are you offering?”

“How can I refuse?” She moved into him, opening herself to his embrace. “It’s been too long, Danté.”

“Yes,” he murmured, taking the offered sacrifice.

She moaned as his teeth entered her, immediately lost in the fervent rush of liquid bliss. It was different among their kind, this aberrant union. For all the unnatural passion, there was no life in their commune. No obsessive hunger for living warmth, for the dying thunder of lost mortality. With them, it was nothing more than coupling; the carnal fusion of a like species.

And it was over too quickly. As was the case with those of his age, the bond had lost its importance.

“I don’t look forward to the day when I am so easily satisfied,” she whispered to him now.

“That is what holds you back, my dear. You’re still too attached to the physical. To these…sensual pleasures.”

“Is that so bad? After all, what would you do if I weren’t? Take a mortal lover? Make another fledgling slave?”

His eyes softened almost sadly now. “That day will come, you know.”

“Yes, I know. And perhaps by then I won’t care. Perhaps by then I’ll lose my taste for such things. And then again,” she added with a meaningful look, “perhaps I won’t. Perhaps I’ll merely bury the feelings, as you have.”

If he could have blushed, he would have. She alone knew his true weakness, a weakness that could mean destruction should it ever be discovered by his contemporaries.

He stared at her, marveling at the reflection of light and water in the hungry depths of her eyes. “You’re wrong about me.”

“Am I?”

“I will miss you.”

She sighed, still bargaining. “Then we should make the most of what we have. Stay with me now.”

“You know where my loyalties lie.”

“Maybe it’s time you broke free.”

“I can’t do that. I belong to…Him.” A shadow crossed his face again, darkening his features.

“What is it?”

“I fear for you now, Alessa. You have committed a forbidden act. He will show no mercy.”

“Will you tell Him, then?”

“I won’t need to.”

She thought about that for a moment, then shrugged; a childlike motion. “It will be worth it, to have what I want.”

If capable, he would have surrendered to the jealousy her betrayal provoked. Would she be willing to risk as much for him? The prospect stirred a desire to protect her from the justice he knew would be forthcoming.

“Vengeance is a dangerous thing for our kind.”

“He would have destroyed her,” she repeated.

“Perhaps that was her destiny.”

“I could never allow that.” She slipped away from his embrace, turning back to find him, her eyes glittering coldly.

“Why not?”

She offered an icy smile. “Because, my dear, I want that privilege for myself.”