MAHOGANY AND CAYENNE
Tears running down her cheeks, lips strongly pressed as if that would prevent any weeping sound to exit her mouth, Adora walked through the forest. Half alive, half dead and entirely destroyed. Her hands ran through her dress, still covered in dried blood, shaking. She left a special scent wherever she walked by, mahogany and cayenne, and for the townsmen that was the scent of death.
The last one had left a bitter taste in her mouth; she took mental note of never feeding off a man inebriated with aguardiente again. Her lizard eyes were the only thing that glowed in that moonless night. It was that poor soul's fault, for drinking and wandering into the forest for a quick leak. He should have been at home, with his wife and children, treasuring the life he still had. So, the groin was the first part she ripped off with her teeth, like the animal she had always been after her death.
And through the tears and the weeping she swore she saw herself when blood was still running through her veins and not between her lips. She once was like them; desperate for attention she could have gotten back home. Getting married was probably the worst decision she had made, since she later found that being tied to a single man was exhausting ... boring. Every day the same pair of eyes, the same words, the same speech between his lips, the same routine in bed.
Whenever she left home, even if it was just to buy some bread, heads turned. She felt their gazes, one by one, running through her bronze skin. Excited, her blood boiled under the sun while the most daring cared to whisper into her ears. The taste of forbidden lust was so strong that nothing could satiate it, not even being a mother. She used to put her baby to sleep pretty easily, so her nightly escapades went through smoothly ... at least for a while.
But how could she imagine that the man she longed for the most was such a vile creature? He was the only one who stared at her from the distance, always punctual, just when the sun dropped. She never had seen more than his silhouette, and nothing else mattered. It was the idea of having a secret admirer, of imagining his lustful thoughts, what drove her crazy. But when she put her baby to sleep that night and she undressed without a single drop of modesty to welcome her dreamed lover, her screams were of everything but pleasure.
Adora wept while walking, with her arms folded in front of her, as if she was carrying her baby. Remembering the moment when she woke up and didn't feel her own heartbeat for the first time. There was nothing but thirst, one she had never experienced. It wasn't her fault, or at least that's what she kept repeating after that gruesome day. At least the infant was still asleep when she tasted his blood for the first time, if only she could have stopped at drinking. That was the day she started crying, and she never stopped ever since.
It was her duty to punish the miserable men who did the same thing as she did once, her foul fate to liberate their wives from such abominations. Even as deep in her thoughts as she was, she could still hear the familiar sound that interrupted her weeping ... a whistling, loud and clear, in a scale from low to high. He sounded far away, so she knew he was standing just behind her for he could be both and neither ... all at the same time.
'Mal hijo', her whisper echoed in the darkness. 'What do you want?'
She turned around and saw the skeletal man, his huge straw hat, and the sack he carried everywhere. He showed his ripped smile, with only half of his teeth left, and removed his hat while bowing in a false act of curtsy. She didn't laugh, but at least that stopped her weeping. They were never seen in a good way by the majority of their kin, always living one prestigious life after the other one. Their humble origins were the only thing that reminded them they were once alive, so they decided to reject the wealth many others had obtained thanks to their nature.
The son, cursed by his own father, took a deep breath and handed her a filthy envelope. Even with all the dust and soil adhered to it, she could still recognize the sealing wax. She gasped, as he let a low whistle escape from his lips. Her nails grew a few millimeters as she ripped the side of the envelope. He had a candle ready to help her read, and her lips moved while she struggled with the words. After all, she was never a scholar and only learned the basics to not be considered completely illiterate.
'I have to go' she said, and her lizard eyes glowed again, even greener than before.
'You can't go alone'. He stepped back; both knew he wasn't offering himself to be her escort.
As many men, he was bewitched by her beauty, but that didn't mean he would follow her to the other side of the world. A wolf howled in the distance, and he tripped, causing Adora to roll her eyes.
'Don't be afraid, Silbón. He's too far away'. A smirk appeared on her face, as she thought how ironic was for that vampire to be so afraid of canines. 'And you're right, as much as I hate to admit it, it would be worse if I went by myself.'
Or all alone. Alone would probably be best.
The times she had met with one of them, the ones with class as she liked to call them, could have been counted with the fingers of one hand. But with the Prince's death, the destiny of her kin was terribly compromised, and her eternal duty of avenging the wives of cheating men was pending by a thread. So, she couldn't battle her destiny, her essence. She had to go to the funeral, yes, but the mere thought of not preparing before that was idiotic.
They said their goodbyes while she started planning her trip. Traveling was one of her passions and she knew the entire south better than any other vampire in the region. She was used to travel by foot, or swimming down the currents of rivers. Water called her as if she belonged to it and it certainly called whenever she was near it, while near water ... her animal nature took over.
She already knew a few of those who were to gather by the other side of the world, but only one name came to her mind when the plan started growing in her mind. Calista, the Spanish one. Who else better than a woman who spoke her own language? The one who came from the place where her ancestors used to live?
Convincing the sailors to let her board was easy, and as the salt from the sea mixed with the one on her tears, she started counting how many of them were on board. Making calculations was important, since she pretended not to let the women and children who were headed to Spain with her to realize the terrible acts she was going to commit during their trip.
There would be after effect and that could be handled for this was going to be the first time she tasted sailor's blood, she could only hope they weren't filled with aguardiente, but rum. Adora ... on her way to making a return ...
***
Do not confuse a word or name to be that of femininity or beauty. It can belong to many places and to many beings, male or female, male in a certain case, not to say beauty does not exist in the darkness of places or in the most sinful of beings. Into another realm one went and from that realm a return was made behind and beyond the guise of another ...
