STRINGS AND TONES WILL BREAK MY BONES ...
1.
The vampire didn't sleep. Calista's words kept resounding in his head. She had called him Garan, and that is a name he shouldn't forget. The red-headed vampire's gift was something not to be taken lightly. And she had savored that name in her lips without skipping a heartbeat and held no deception. That was how she saw him, and having lived an uninterrupted lifetime, Lindsey knew she must have been talking about his future ...
The fact that he managed to hold on to his mortal body for so long without giving in to the rot of the curse had made him stronger than most dwellers. Calista knew this. Another name meant a new casing of flesh, abandoning everything he had been for the uncertainty of becoming another. Was it a veiled threat, or a warning? Whatever it was, it terrified him.
As he rose, the musician spent some time delighting in the rich threaded sheets imported from Cairo. Calista knew not to spare, indulging in every pleasure and bestowing it upon those around her as well. She had commanded every request to be met and foreseen every desire. The sweet young thing that had serviced his bed, leaving as the witching hour marked three, was well instructed.
He took his time entertaining an idea. If they were going to see their Prince, he might as well uncover their earnest intentions. After all, he had been blessed with a touch of magic. Where witches weaved words, he worked on rhythms. Vampires were hard to read. If they had traces of a heartbeat, it was no more than a lazy murmur. But nothing brought passion hidden skin-deep forward as music did and he was a music man.
'Will you play?'
Cara Mia stood in the narrow doorway of his bedroom. Had he not been opening the case; he would have sworn she read his mind. The Italian vampire was a vessel of pure madness, a doll of glorious beauty whose eyes spoke of pain, both suffered and inflicted.
'I will, my dear. What about you? What brings you to my quarters?'
'They are on my way downstairs. You see, I'm alone now. A moment ago, I wasn't. I was stealing a kiss. It's a game I play, trying to remember when my skin was one with the Mediterranean sun, but caro, il sole morde! It bites, mercilessly.'
She extended a charred hand for him to kiss. Pieces of lace melted into her skin.
'You are truly insane!' The vampire chuckled, bringing her close.
'And something here smells of almonds ... faintly,' and of a certain spice or two though this goes unsaid.
Lindsey caught her hand before she could touch the case on top of the dresser.
'Yet, not crazed enough to get your way with me, or my violin for that matter.'
'Is it true,' Cara asked, 'that you have kissed the face of Death? Is she as beautiful as I imagined her? Does she remember me, whom she left behind?'
'The answer to all your questions will always be yes. I don't have the heart to contradict you.'
As Lindsey picked up the case, he noticed one of the latches was a little loose. Cursing softly, he made a note of fixing it later. 'Time to go, Cara. Our little exchange has made us late.'
And here they come' Henry marked his words with a rising eyebrow, twirling his lips in scorn. 'I should have known you were hiding in Lindsey's shadow. I had to deal with the manservant you left ... discarded in the terraza.
'Excuse your noble heart. A leech that is on top a Brit can't spare a minute to heal tissue damage without complaint. That's why I thought your cousin would have made a better vampire. He didn't mind laying down his life in Greece for something better than his own interests.'
Cara spat on the floor, always ready to jab at forever young Henry. She uttered nonsense, as they had come to expect, blaming her benefactor. However, she saw not the man, but his stature, truly believing the noble bred worse than the damned. Henry's kind was the one she struggled to accept. She loved and tormented him with equal measure.
They were comrades in blood and yet, when clarity shone through her madness, those angelic features reminded him of those high-born men who had made victims of angels in the permissive streets of Venice. The elder Lord of Byron, however, she had embraced, truly, madly, deeply ... yet never reaching him on time. Death, her eternal rival and ultimate obsession had taken him much too soon.
'George died of sepsis, not by the sword. It could have happened anywhere ...' Cara's hiss intended to drown his remarks, but it was Calista who had the last word.
'Happy about it or not, at least someone knows how to keep the rules of the house. Cattle count, remember? Everyone had a pleasant sleep, I take? Catching up on a lifetime of secrets ...' Her eyes said something other than her smile. A hard stare met Adora as her lips stretched, warm and inviting. 'Are we having an interlude? How sweet! I didn't want to impose on you, Lindsey, but it would mean the world to me if you played Lucio's favorite, in exchange for all to be forgiven. Peace under our roof.'
The vampire nodded and looked at Calista from head to toe with eyes that changed color as they followed the firm curves of her body.
'There you are, the true you,' Adora interrupted. 'I have seen you from afar, splitting the skies with that blue blaze that hides within. I wonder ... if your mistress would be pleased that you shared this with another.'
'Tsk, Tsk! The enemy of fun!' Calista clicked her tongue in mockery, a reaction that brought Lindsey a little too close to New Orleans. The vampire cleared his throat; he was being invaded by a lightheadedness he hadn't experienced since he was human. The hostess continued, lifting her arms in surrender. 'What will the implications be, Adora, if he decides to rosin the bow in front of us? Surely a scandal worth crossing the Atlantic for!'
The Egyptian vampire, silent still, turned eastward and touched his lips, passing unheard words onto his fingers and spreading them to the air. Calista had made a mockery of an avatar of Death, and it begged for a remedy.
'Are we ready?' Henry sat on a broad couch, tapping the fabric lightly and indicating that even after their brief spat, he rather have Cara Mia as company. 'That bastard Lucio had a thousand defects, but he had a love for art. I never had the chance to hear you play strings, dear Lindsey, our Prince found it too unravelling. Can't wait!'
'A dance ... a funeral dance. We are after all, a world of contradictions.' For the first time since their arrival, Calista sounded somber. 'A farewell that speaks of perfect moments frozen in time, a prayer that might never be answered. Play Bach for ... for Lucio.'
