Tribes Of The Vampire - Eternally Bound Part 46

"You love him," Marcello accused. "I can feel it."

"As a brother, yes, I love him as my brother, my father, my friend," Tatiana said. She could feel the jealousy in him and was sorry for it. "Leandro has my loyalty, but not my heart. He is a necessity. His friends.h.i.+p is something I need. I've felt that it is.

You are something I choose, something I want, but also something I need if I am to survive. I understand if you feel your heart is dead. I don't demand your love, I never have. I only demand your presence with me if it is freely given."

Marcello said nothing, only listened. His face was cautiously blank, as he hid his emotions from her.

"I know what you took from him. I know about the woman you killed--his woman."

"He told you that?" Marcello asked.

"He didn't have to. I felt it," Tatiana said. "Despite what she was, he loved her. She was his humanity. You killed that in him. I only wish to see him have it back. That is why I wished for us to stay with him. He needs a family. He is so alone. We are all alone. Being alone together makes it not so bad."

"He doesn't want us," Marcello spat. "He has banished us from him."

"You never once offered to bridge the gap. You never once said you were sorry for killing that woman," Tatiana said. She stepped up into the carriage. Marcello followed, sitting across from her in the darkness. He hit the ceiling, signaling for the driver to go.

"I don't regret the fact that she died. He knows that. Any words I say would be false," Marcello answered when they were moving.

"Tell me, then. Why did you do it? Did you not wish him to have her? Please, tell me you were not so cruel as to torture your own flesh and blood for a sick moment of pleasure."

"I was different. Jiri was a harsh master. He didn't have our regard for human life. I starved myself until I could no longer fight the hunger. I didn't know what I had become or why. The woman was a wh.o.r.e. She'd been sleeping with almost every man in the village for years, from old farmers to young servants. Leandro wouldn't believe anyone but her. He was happy only in ignorance. He wanted to change her to be with him. I felt that he did. He protected her, gave her money, jewels, clothing-- anything she wanted. If she wanted revenge against someone, he would take their life. She was an evil, cruel woman who discovered Leandro's immortal secret and used it. So I went to her to tell her to go away. I was going to pay her off. But she kept offering her neck to me, taunting me. I was so hungry. I bit her. So help me, I bit her and I drank the life from her."

"You really killed her?" Tatiana asked, breathless. "The woman he loved?"

"She wasn't worthy of his eternity." Marcello looked out the carriage window.

"Eternity is a long time to hold a grudge," Tatiana said. "Are you sure there isn't more to it?"

Marcello's sadness and regret clouded over them, as he continued, "Only afterwards did I remember her wanting me to change her. For some reason Leandro had refused up until that point. Now, I think he must have known his blood was too weak to do it."

"What happened?" Tatiana moved across the carriage seat and gently cupped her hand on Marcello's jaw, drawing his eyes back to her. She kissed him lightly, unable to hold back. Soothingly, she stroked his hair.

"Leandro saw what I had done and tried to save her. He forced me to give her back her blood mixed with mine. She drank it greedily, almost draining me completely and I let her have it. Her body died a horrible, painful death that went on for days.

We sat and watched it like two confused children wondering what we had done wrong. Leandro refused to end her suffering and so we waited. That morning, before dawn, we carried her to the graveyard and stuck her in a coffin. Jiri expected us back in our own beds. Now, I think, he must have known what we had done, but he said nothing to us."

"And the next night? When you went to get her? She was a vampire?"

"No. She was still there, screaming in agony. She'd ripped gashes into her skin and pulled out all her hair. Leandro tried to feed her, but she wouldn't drink of blood, wouldn't partake of human food. She just kept clawing at her flesh and screaming, crouching on the ground in a corner. After that, Leandro refused to leave her again. I was forced to tell Jiri what had happened.

Jiri told Leandro to put her out of her misery, to kill her. He refused. She stayed like that for about a week. In the end, she didn't change. I was too young to change anyone, the vampiric blood in me too new. He stayed by her side the whole time.

And when it was finally over, she was reduced to ash in his arms."

Tatiana continued to caress the side of Marcello's face. "That is why you promised never to change me."

"Si, bella mia," Marcello said, reaching to press his hand over hers. "I have never changed anyone. Leandro has never forgiven me for it. He said that I killed his love for me that night. It has not grown back since and after dead so long a time, I doubt it will ever grow back. We are not the boys we once were. Jiri saw to that."

Tatiana leaned up and kissed him gently. The year had pa.s.sed for them, sleeping in each others arms, making love. But, neither of them spoke of their hearts. Hers beat his name in a constant rhythm, but she hid it from him. She couldn't bear to have her love unreturned so she kept it quiet. But to sense his pain--so fierce inside him--she only loved him more. The truth of it choked her until she wanted to cry. She pulled her lips back.

"And yet, he released me to you," she whispered quietly. "That is something."

"Sometimes,bella mia , when you face eternity alone, you have to hold onto certain things in order to survive the years.

Leandro has embraced his revenge, his anger, his hatred of me. It gives him something constant to hold onto when the world about him changes in ways he can't understand. You saw his castle home. It is the same from when we were boys. He doesn't wish to change with the times. And now he has changed you to punish me--or that is at least why I believe he did it. Perhaps his revenge is my looking at you and knowing what path I led you down, knowing the demon inside you is my fault as much as his. I could've left you in Eastwich. I should have. I should have let you marry Thomas, regardless of how your heart felt for him. I think you would've been better off."

"And you, Marcello? What do you embrace?"

"I embrace you,bella mia ," he whispered, touching her gently.

"And before me?"

Marcello pulled his hand back, answering in a thoughtful tone, "I embraced humanity. I watched it, studied it. Like the Moulin Rouge's underworld lifestyle. I watched and listened. I looked at art, architecture. I lost myself in the pleasures of human emotion and experiences. I watched children grow up, some to become great men, others mediocre men who amounted to nothing, did nothing but live out their lives. I watched the darker side too--every hatred, every sin, every possible secret. I've seen murders, watched them like plays. They fascinated me the most, for those men were worse than I. We are creatures designed to kill for food. They killed for sport, to feed a demon worse than my own. It was in such a mood that I stopped to watch you and Henry. You fascinated me that night."

"You watched and did nothing?" Tatiana asked, a little horrified.

"I did not see Alice's death," he allowed. "I would like to think I would've intervened. But I will not lie to you,bella mia . I did watch murders without offering a.s.sistance. Occasionally, I would punish the murderer after the deed, but I didn't always stop him. Sometimes, the killer had good reason to do what he did."

Slowly she nodded her head in acceptance of what he said to her. Her fingers dropped from his face to rest motionless in her lap. Mournful, she whispered, "I miss the simplicity of human life. I think I would've been contented in a mediocre life. I miss the ignorance of the girl I once was. I think I shall always miss it."

London, England, Winter 1899

The air was cold, but Tatiana couldn't feel it. The blood of her victim warmed her undead body. As she drank against a strong neck, she peeked into the man's thoughts. He wasn't a bad man--a hard worker, loving father, devoted husband despite a few indiscretions. She could even taste his innocent fear of the new millennium that would be upon them soon. Tatiana was pleased. She hated the taste of evil on her lips and in the city, where they often hunted, evil abounded.

It was different having to hunt for food. She'd grown used to Leandro's home, where the meals came to her freely. It hadn't taken long for Marcello to teach her how to feed without drawing attention or causing pain. She had to eat, so there was little choice in the matter.

Marcello's quiet lessons surprised her. They way he spoke of his victims, with respect and a sense of appreciation, amazed her. It was as if he talked of fine art--each human different, their taste unique, flavored by their heritage, their pa.s.sions, every one of their emotions, their food and drink.

"Their story is in their blood, bella mia," he had explained. "Take the human heritage. German blood is strong, perhaps a bit bitter. French is sweet like wine. English a little tart. African hearty and stout, wild like that country. Then, when they are blended together ... ah, you will see. You will come to know them all."

Tatiana discovered that Marcello rarely killed, unless the victim was so evil they didn't deserve life. Mostly he took what he needed from one or two a night and let them on their way. Though a strange feeling of fatigue usually plagued them afterwards, his victims were almost always completely unaware of what had happened to them.

Using all her skill, she let the man's thoughts drift in a dreamlike state of euphoria. In his mind he walked through a dark garden, his feet trudging endlessly through the fresh winter snow. When she felt full, she let go and bit her lip. She used her blood to heal the wound so no evidence could be brought about later. Marcello was insistent that they not draw attention to the existence of their kind.

Reaching out with her senses, she felt beyond the narrow alleyway and detected it was safe. She guided the man by his arm and whispered, "Go home to your wife."

The man tipped his head at her without really seeing her, hugged his coat around his waist, and trudged away, watching the wet ground as he pa.s.sed over it.

Tatiana s.h.i.+vered, feeling movement behind her. She wore only a gown of blue linen--fas.h.i.+onable and plain. Her cheeks were flushed with stolen warmth. Snowflakes fell lightly over her head and she looked up into them. A few of the man's lingering thoughts processed through her head, thoughts stolen in a deep kiss. Marcello stepped up from behind her and gently placed a dark blue cape over her shoulders.

"You forgot this,bella mia ," he said quietly.

"I have no need of it," she answered back, turning to look at his handsome face. No matter how often she saw him, her heart still fluttered at the sight of him, her body still trembled at the sound of his deep voice.

"Ah, but you do," Marcello said, taking up her arm, "for we can't risk drawing attention."

Tatiana gave a light chuckle. "They will not see me unless I wish to be seen."

"Ah, even the oldest of us can slip," Marcello said. "Indulge me in this."

"Very well." She let him lead her over the long, endless brick sidewalks, past wrought iron gates and fences, past pretty little homes nestled in their perfect little yards. This section of the city was for the middle cla.s.s, a great improvement from the overcrowded boarding houses of the inner city ma.s.ses.

"Has Alice come back to you?" Marcello asked.