Beneath A Casanova {#1}

Part 5

Part 5

He swam in a sea of emptiness, searching for the way that was up, the way that was down. He saw nothing, felt nothing, and breathed nothing. Desperate to be more than just a thought, he moved through the darkness, finally feeling something; pain.

He opened his eyes with a gasp, and his vision sharpened. He saw his surroundings. He felt pain, so intense it was almost as if he were afire. He struggled to breathe a second breath, but he could not. He pulled his head up and looked down his body.

What he saw shocked the hell out of him. No wonder there was pain. But a newfound pain filled his heart, this one so intense it outdid his physical hurting. He lost all hope, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back.

He wove in and out of consciousness, but at one point of time, he opened his eyes again to find her. Her. She stood by his side, watching him doubtfully with another stake in her hand, ready to put another into his chest. She’d placed the first one there while he’d been in his death-sleep, and he knew from the determined look in her eyes that she wasn’t afraid to slam in the second one.

He reached out a bloody hand to her, and managed to grasp her on her wrist before she could jump away. He knew exactly how cold he was when his fingers curled around her pale, lovely wrist.

“Why?” He asks painfully in Italian.

She struggled uselessly against his grip, dropping the stake in her other hand as if forgetting that she had her weapon.

“You are a demon! A bloodsucker. You will bring harm to everyone around you!” She ranted on as she hammered against his hand on her wrist. He didn’t let go, for he couldn’t believe it. She, the one he had given his heart fully to, had turned around and called him a demon.

“I am still your husband and lover... why do you do this to me, Marietta?” He begged.

The first stake had made him weak and hungry, but Marietta had not quite managed to put it into his heart just yet.

“My husband Giacomo is dead! I mourned the loss of him with our son, and I have come to accept that God has taken Giacomo back into His Loving Embrace. You are not Giacomo! You are an evil spirit possessing the body of my beloved.” Marietta declared, the tears running from her eyes. He knew he had hurt her, but what could he do to make her believe that he was the real Dante Giacomo Casanova, her husband?

“I told you, Marietta! I am your Giacomo! The police assumed I was dead, but they never saw my body. I was turned into a vampire! I am still Giacomo, still your love!” He tried to insist.

She wrenched her wrist free from his grasp, rushing to scoop the fallen stake from the floor.

“Leave my husband’s body alone!” She cried, and slammed the second stake down.

He didn’t know if it was a comedy, or if someone was out to make fun of him, because Marietta missed his heart again, stabbing him in the stomach this time. Pain flooded his senses anew, and he jerked.

His wife stumbled a few steps backwards, her fearful eyes wide and tear-filled.

“Marietta…” Her name was a pained whisper on his lips as he struggled to stay conscious.

Somewhere in the distance, at the entrance of the basement of his palazzo that he’d taken refuge under, a young boy of five started to cry. Dante painfully turned his eyes to the doorway, his vision slowly focusing on the young child.

“Mama!” The young boy ran towards them, but Marietta stopped the boy from approaching where he lay, sleeping on the cold stone tablet of his ancestors.