Futile Flame (18 page)

It was strange how I reverted so easily to pupil from teacher. Miranda’s words gave me new power. Her magic instruction imparted to me the knowledge to protect myself from humans and supernatural beings alike.

‘If I’m a healer,’ I asked, hanging out our washing on hooks that protruded from the caravan, ‘then teach me healing magic.’

‘All magic is healing, Luci, even fire. You just need to focus it to your needs.’

Miranda taught me nine basic magical potions. ‘Three times three is the most powerful number, Luci.’

To begin with she raised the cloth that covered the bunk we slept on and withdrew a large black pot.

‘Basic tools of magic,’ she told me. ‘A potion and words of power.’

We created a healing lotion. Miranda explained how the ointment could be used just as easily to hurt as to heal.

‘The intention is what counts.’

The potions took the form of ointments, lotions, medicines and tonics. With those nine, thousands of spells could be created. There were nine words of power too, which could be used in various ways. All that was needed was the thought or wish behind the spell to make it work.

‘Words of power are specific to the individual,’ she explained. ‘My own words would probably do nothing for you at all. The triskele I showed you is a potent word and symbol for your kind, Luci. Use it wisely, one day it may save your life.’

‘And the pentagram?’

‘Yes. All witches use the pentagram, it is the one symbol we have in common.’

Miranda stirred the pot. She was making a protection spell. I’d learnt that she renewed the wards on the caravan on the first day of every new moon.

‘The moon gives us power. And for a vampire...’ She looked up into my eyes as she spoke and I stopped fidgeting with my coin belt and gazed back at her. ‘The moon gives you a source of nourishment if you know how to tap into it.’

I waited as she returned to her stirring. It would have been like her to stop there and not explain further. When she was in that mood nothing in the world could induce her to speak. This time she looked up again, as though remembering to finish her explanation.

‘Have you ever danced naked in it, Luci?’

I laughed. ‘Like a real witch?’

Miranda smiled. ‘Yes like a “real” witch! And like a true vampire. You see, there are many ways to feed.’

With that she grew silent again.

‘In my old life,’ I said, ‘there were many forms of vampire. By that I mean parasites that preyed on those weaker than themselves. My brother was a monster long before he grew fangs.’

‘He couldn’t help himself,’ Miranda replied. ‘Destiny had a hand in all of it. Everything that has happened to you since the day you were born has led to this moment. Caesare will learn his own lessons, and there will be a price to pay for his crimes.’

I believed her words. I felt the air ripple with her curse. I knew that somehow, in some distant time, Caesare would wear the burden of his felony.

‘What we sow, we reap?’ I asked.

Miranda nodded. ‘In a fashion. But the universe has a design for it all.’

‘Miranda... that day, the day you came for me. How did you know? Nothing you have shown me so far has even touched on the level of knowledge that you had that day. How did you know so much about the past, present and future?’

‘My dear Luci. That is the destiny I had to fulfil, just as your tuition was my ultimate task. Now you are almost ready to go back into the world. You are almost ready to face your demons and live the life you were destined to.’

I felt ready – almost. I knew I could hide my presence from my brother now. Even if we stood in the same room I could be masked from him. The spell of protection Miranda had taught me seemed like my most valuable weapon. I felt safe in the knowledge that he could never find me.

‘We’ll face the world together.’ I smiled. ‘And what a powerful force we’ll make.’

I hugged Miranda as though my life depended on it. Maybe I suspected, even then, that she would not remain with me forever. She was mortal, after all. Age and death would come to her one day, despite the magic I assumed she must use to keep her youthful looks. Despite my vague intuition, nothing could prepare me for the day I woke to find that she had gone. The caravan, the horse and Miranda were lost from my life as suddenly as they had arrived. I never saw my friend and mentor again.

Chapter 30 – Lucrezia’s Story

I was shocked and hurt by Miranda’s desertion. Her sudden disappearance sent me into a mad frenzy. I looked everywhere for her. I travelled back along the roads and villages we had visited in the last year, but she was nowhere to be found. Miranda knew better than anyone how to hide. She had taught me well the art of witchcraft, of using herbs for medicine, especially how to hide more effectively from my brother. So it wasn’t long before I gave up my search. She would not be found if she didn’t want to be.

I couldn’t understand why she had left. Maybe she had thought that I had nothing more to learn from her now. Or maybe she was just bored of caring for me. It was hard to know. I had thought she loved me. I wept at night, hoping she would return and say, ‘This is another lesson you must learn.’ Maybe it was a lesson. I had to rely solely on myself, for mortals were fickle and their lives too limited to hold onto. Sometimes at night I would dream that Miranda had been sick and had wished to spare me the pain of her death. I never learnt the truth and it was an ache that throbbed in my heart for centuries.

I travelled for years. Lovers and food came and went and then, to my surprise, I felt another overwhelming urge. When all other needs were fulfilled, I had a craving for company. I had dipped in and out of society as I travelled but I remained always on the periphery, avoiding long-term contact with others. I felt cold to humanity, despite my ability to heal them. Instead, my isolation made me selfish. I fed my desires. I did not care how I used my victims.

I joined the court of the Medici in Florence, back in Italy, at the end of the century. This world was a whirlwind of beauty that was as corrupt as any other. It was fun for a while for me to consider the seduction of someone important. I fantasised about the death of the Duke, who was known for his sexual perversity. I arrived as a Countess. For the first time in years I used my real name. I felt invulnerable.

The Florentines were welcoming. My obvious wealth, always so easy to accumulate, bought me access to all of the aristocratic homes. I had the latest Parisian fashion in my trunks and the ladies at the court, always looking for a new style or whim took to emulating some of my designs.

‘Who is that?’ asked the Duke as he glanced across the gardens and saw me seated beside one of the many water features.

‘Countess Borgia, your highness. She is a widow of considerable equity.’

‘She pleases our eye,’ the Duke answered. ‘Seat her near me at dinner this evening.’

I smiled to myself as I stood pretending to smell the flowers nearby. He had no way of knowing that I could hear his whispered words. The Duke moved on, but I soon became his mistress and planned the day I would kill him as he fucked me. Powerful men were so easy to manipulate. So deserving of my killing kiss.

Chapter 31 – Present

Lilly falls upon the girl and rips out her throat before I reach them. She is starving. Months of hunger and disrupted feeding has made us both desperate. Tonight we behave like animals. I fall on the girl’s arm, tearing the vein open and gulping down the blood. Power rushes back into my limbs as I swallow her life force. I glance up at Lilly and watch with fascination as she feeds. Gone is the time when we would play with our victims. There is no sexual satisfaction, just a meal. This is what being a vampire really means.

Too long I have been absorbed in the romance of my condition. I am no hero of paranormal fiction. I am a killer by nature. Though it is certainly true that I can be part of society if I so choose.

I resume my meal. The girl’s body jerks beneath my vicious grasp. She is still alive, but is rapidly going into shock. It doesn’t matter; though, our intention was to finish her completely.

Lilly sits back, licking the spillage from her hands. I feel the sexual energy returning as I look at her while gulping down the last dregs of blood from the dying teenager.

‘Shame. She was only young.’

But Lilly doesn’t look regretful.

‘She was a slut.’

‘Oh yes. I never understood how girls can go out half-dressed in winter. And she came onto you in that club.’

‘Were you jealous?’ I ask, smiling at her. She stands up, smoothes her hands down her dress which is splattered with the girl’s blood.

‘Well, let’s say, when she offered to give you a blowjob in the toilets in exchange for a line of heroin, and then grabbed your cock, I was not best pleased.’

Lilly holds out a hand and I take it, jumping to my feet. For the first time in weeks I am nearly back to full strength. The almost nightly encounters with the entity have left us both drained and weak. We needed blood, and quickly. The problem with this, of course, was that every time we picked a victim, the creature took it from us. It was as though it was deliberately weakening us.

Lilly had the answer.

‘Let’s go dancing,’ she had said earlier.

A club was the perfect place to fulfil our needs. It was obvious we had to act immediately and feed.

‘We need more,’ Lilly says as we leave the girl hidden in a large bin in the back alley behind the club.

‘Ok. But let’s not specify. This seems to be working.’

We had not sensed the entity since our last encounter on the roads outside Manchester. Even so, we remained cautious. Lilly was less weakened than I, but then it maybe the entity was focusing his energy on me. He obviously thought I was the biggest threat. We had not voiced what we both suspected, which was that the creature may be the only being on Earth that could actually destroy us.

Soaring into the air I am relieved to feel more like myself. We float, holding hands above the city. We are in Chester. It is full of quaint older buildings. The hotel we are staying in is opposite the train station and is suitably ostentatious. It fulfils my needs, though Lilly is far less fussy than I. The hotel staff whisper amongst themselves that it is haunted, but for the most part our time here has been undisturbed. I see the train station from the air and fly in that direction.

We move around slowly, looking for a likely target. A mother leaves the station leading her small child by the hand straight to an idling car. An old lady pushes her Zimmer frame down the street. A vagrant walks towards a bench at the front of the station, obviously looking for a resting place for the night. Without thinking I swoop down, picking the vagrant up off his feet and up into the air with us. His smell assaults my nostrils. He reeks of urine, faeces and BO. He is not the type of meal we would usually enjoy, but at the moment our world is on shaky ground. We cannot afford to be choosy.

I gag the man with my hand as we pull him through the window of our room. Lilly closes the window behind us and then opens the bathroom door. I pull his shocked and frightened body inside throwing him roughly into the shower. We turn on the water, rinsing him. It feels as though we are washing and preparing a meal.

‘We are,’ Lilly laughs. ‘There’s no way I’m biting him till he’s clean.’

The tramp stares at her uncomprehendingly, moans and complains in a scared, quiet voice. I strip him of his ripped, worn coat and begin to peel away the remainder of his stinking clothing. Once naked, we scrub his shrivelled body under the hot water.

‘Would you like some whisky?’ Lilly asks, kindly. ‘It must be awful being out on such a cold night.’

The tramp’s cataract-impeded vision clouds up, tears fill his pale eyes. ‘Are you an angel?’ he asks through a mouth of missing teeth.

Lilly smiles at him. ‘If it helps, yes.’

I watch her wrap a towel around him and hand him a full tumbler of whisky, which he gulps down gratefully. Lilly, my seraph, my beauty, is a cold-blooded angel of mercy. She appears outwardly to have empathy with the man. She rubs his hair dry with a hand towel. Her expression is kind when facing him, blank and cold when he can’t see her. Then she feeds him glass after glass of the whisky until he begins slurring his words.

She leads him to the chair beside the bed, sitting him down and handing him a renewed glass. He is now wrapped in the thick towelling bathrobe that is complementary to clients in our expensive suite.

‘You first,’ Lilly says.

‘I can wait...’

‘No, you’re still weak. Please, darling. I want to see you back to full strength.’

I take the tramp without further thought. The skin on his throat is tough and weather-worn but my fangs break through easily. His blood erupts like a geyser, flooding my mouth. I taste the whisky, but it has no other effect than to tickle the back of my throat as his strength fills my veins. My power and vitality soar.