Fatale

Chapter One

Chapter One

The dark was close about him as he sat in the rouge light of the room. He sat on a stool in the middle of it all, in the centre of a room which was still half draped in sheets… One time polished tables of oak and maple poked out their tongues from beneath the dusty folds which cascaded like old milk from the tables to the floor. Red satin recliners and Tudor chairs were pushed up against drawn crimson curtains with their gold tassels tailing in the dirt. A grandfather clock with a yellowing face, creased photos and ancient portraits hung in crooked frames and a broken Venetian vase sat in the shadows opposite the figure he cut in the gloom.

He wondered if the call had been real; if the introduction of this Call would change him… make him feel more alive... In the day the magic that had spiralled out and breathed itself into his soul did not seem quite as real as it had the night before as he slept. The silence made him feel safe but he knew that silence had to end today. He could almost imagine the girl he was meant to search for playing the piano in the corner like one of his old lovers had… but.... He could hear running sound of water calling out from behind an oak panelled door and he almost uncurled from the foetal position he maintained to go to the window and pull back the curtain and see… and see… and see what? He dropped his head back on to his shoulders and waited, grey eyes blinking at the ceiling and inspecting the decorative grandeur of the room. He had settled here, cold and waiting… When would Leon return with news?

He stretched out his hand for the Waterford decanter he had had set beside him by Kayla, filled with a robust porter and sat beside two snifters and a small collection of Royal Doulton and Quimper. A filigree sterling wine chiller had been removed after he had turned the bottle to find it to be a Dom Perignon from the late 1890s. He'd almost snarled and she'd ducked away with a sad smile.

Both she and Leon expected him to celebrate. He'd found his mate. He, Requiem, the latest vampire to have stirred, had found his mate… And his mate was 16 years old in this life. A dragon. A mere girl.

It wasn't that he cared that it was a dragon. He had had plenty of non-human lovers before, sirens and nagas and deceptively pretty alfen; he'd even had male lovers, though that may shock some, in fact the only problem was that he was less secure now than he had been in 1816 when he'd gone to sleep after the Vienna Congress. Metternich had been the last human he had ever loved and he'd been scorned, ridiculed because no statesman of Austria could possibly, having defeated the charismatic Corsican and banished him to Elba, love a Vampire. No matter how much the Vampires had aided the downfall of Napoleon Bonaparte, the mortals desired to ignore their influence. And Requiem had found himself falling into a daze beyond the daylight and by twilight he had been soothed to sleep. There was no need for immortals for a while.

He had been offended. He had been scorned. He had been hurt. He also knew that mate's didn't need to have a loving relationship but a vampire who acknowledged the bond would then be entirely bound to the second party and doomed to love no other even if the love held between them was nonexistent or fraternal or amicable. He sighed… what would happen if they didn’t agree with each other? What would they do then? He would have to be careful. Not look at his mate full in the face until such time as he was sure of her and her intentions.

"Master, Leon just sent word from Dublin, he found the girl." Kayla stepped into the room, her violet eyes velveteen as they caught his own. She could see his fear, he knew she could, "I thought you might want her to come here so I set up a travel spell for them…"

He sighed, "I do not want her to see me yet. I want to know her before…"

"Of course, Master, I'll set up a panel-"

"No. Just bring me another chair. I'll sit away from her with my back to her. Place a small mirror in front of both chairs. She'll not be able to see me but I'll be able to see her."

"As you wish, Master."

She left and he knew that she was off to tap into the magic of the house.

He wondered if the girl knew what he was yet. If she was only sixteen it was likely that she wouldn't yet be conscious of all that was going on in the world. She probably couldn't yet discern the meaning of the humming winds and he doubted she was able to tap into the power that her blood gave her. Surely her parents would have told her though, parents usually liked to tell their children of their inheritance. Again he sighed, wondering now if he should put on a shirt with his loose black trousers. He knew it was customary for a vampire who has felt the Call to not wear anything on their upper body so that their mate would feel unthreatened. It was an archaic tradition steeped in the belief that a human mate would be uncomfortably with the idea of an immortal demanding their blood and their bodies. For that's what it was… originally… That was why they needed their mate. So that their strength remained intact; the blood of the chosen meant that no other blood sustenance would be necessary but without it they could continue to live as a leech on the humans around them.

God he hated thinking about vampirism. It was too goddamn cliché. The stories people told about them. He laughed to himself. They never came close. No one ever wrote it perfectly. Of course there were some who were accurate enough but the tales were so generalised, so stereotyped. There were truths: stakes could kill them, as could a bullet to the head or decapitation but no matter how the vampire died, they'd live again. The eternity of Where-Ever was not all powerful and every element had its immortals and ancients. Earth, Wind, Water, Fire… they had immortals sent to preside over the world so that the balance between raw chaotic matter and the design of the universe was not wrenched apart. The vampires were just one group of those immortals, descended from the earth element and just like any other creature, some were pulled under the wing of the light and some found solace in the dark. Some fought for the hellish glory of the underworld, their purpose to tip the balance in favour of chaos and others battled on for the preservation of natural law. Others were Wilds: immortals that sat between the lines, blurring them so much that the grey mesh of black and white was almost constant. They were the most dangerous.

Mirrors glittered into view and he found himself turning to face the far wall on his stool. He stared, noting that his reflection was almost visible due to his recent drink in Amersham. He'd have to drink again soon.

*

Lesedi was hardly aware of when she had agreed to accompany Leon to visit his friend's house. They had been talking for days, Leon visiting every morning and evening and disappearing during the afternoon when Lesedi had to help out in the school and hospital. The invitation had been sudden but without knowing why, she trusted the taller male with the strange marking on his face inexplicably. There was something intense about him which made her curious and she had barely acknowledged that Leon was telling her that he needed to visit his wife and his oldest friend soon and was wondering if the young Irishwoman would like to accompany him.

She had never expected what he had been taken to though.

They were walking across the moors when they had, from seemingly no where, reached lawn. The evening reminded him of late July, right before the heady, heat intoxicated days of August, when sunsets turn the sky purple before they die away. Except it was cold… freezing cold and the ground was glittering with a dewy sheen as if some exuberant fairy had swept its arms out and scattered silver dust across the grass. She could taste salt on her lips and though she had never seen the sea, she knew that it was nearby and that was what was making the dusk air into a soft musk. How they had walked so far that they had reached the ocean she didn't know but… She longed to sit on the grass, its cool mesh of fingers curling around her own frail hands as they dug into the earth and she sighed, content to be away from home if only for a short while. The hills rose up from a sea conifer trees that seemed to make up the view stretching out below her from her position on the lawn bank. It was a whole different world in those woods, she could tell.

Dappled sun light would be shuttered by the leaves as they stretched towards the sky. The auburn pattern on the leaf strewn earth would still hold reminders the orange and umber and gold of the autumn but would be gently doused in snow. The leaves had all fallen but the branches would tremble in every wind, clinging on to the mother trunk and stretch out their fingers to the sky in honour of the wonderment. Ghosts flickered between the trunks of old, gnarled trees as a breeze made the shadows sway, the rustle would pretend to be the voices of spirits as they told tales of a histhical world that ended long ago… Somewhere a little stream, giggling its way across cobalt grey rocks with their green laced collars of weed, would splutter down in a cascade of water, falling like magic downwards, gold in the reflection of the trees…

The world was beautiful.

*

What troubled Leon was the girl's age. He watched the youth with her green flashing eyes and vibrant smile as she bathed in the sensuality of her own idyllic love of nature. He knew that Requiem would love her. That troubled Leon most of all. The fact that he knew that his lonely, immortal aristocrat would fall for this girl, with only the reservation of experience behind him, terrified him. How could it not? This child was sixteen years old, alive and excited about living. The dark brown hair, though not overly long, was abundant and slightly curly and her skin was the gentle tan of a youth who spends her life in the speckled eye of the sun. The thinly clad body didn't shiver, it was as if she relished the cold and the flush that it brought to her cheeks. Leon could see immediately that Lesedi Wilde was… the perfect match for his master. Except for one small… infinitely acute.... all-encompassing problem.

*

"She doesn’t know her inheritance yet, does she?"

"No master… I'm sorry…"

"I won't speak to her. I wouldn't want her to discover anything this way."

"But-"

"No 'but's Leon. It's not fair on her and I… I wouldn't… Just don’t bring her here to see me. I'll stay here in the dark."

Lesedi heard Leon sigh and wondered why they both seemed so upset. What were they talking about?

"What's her name, Leon?"

"Lesedi. Lesedi Wilde. Just like your Call said."

There was a soft, "Ah…" It seemed sad, hollowed out as if the word was a cavern that dripped with the blood of the ocean, "Go to Kayla. She has missed you."

"I will, my lord, thank you."

Lesedi heard footsteps and darted backward, away from the doors and into an alcove in the wall, concealing her from the view of the door but giving her full view of the hallway. She saw Leon emerge, red hair being pushed nervously from his face and his expression in a down turned grimace. It was as if he was disappointed. And they had been talking about her. Was she the problem? Why had the stranger within the secret room been talking about her? She wanted to know. That silken voice with its strange lilting accent… it drew her and… There was only one way to find out anything and that was to ask.

With the impetuousness of youth behind her, Lesedi looked around to see if Leon had disappeared and stepped out into the shadow of the large looming door.

*

When the girl first walk into the darkened room, Requiem had thought it was Leon come back to torment him with more knowledge of the mate he could never have.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I… I'm sorry I…"

His head whipped up to the mirror and he realised his mistake. The girl stood there, long and lithe, with frayed jeans and scabby shoes. She had lawless, out of control hair that stuck up in the oddest of places. Ruffled, scruffy, and looking like a soul without a home, the young woman gave Requiem's mirror a strange smile as he continued to observe. There were days’ of road dust on her jeans, and the backpack slung over her shoulder looked to be bound with silver tape. She wasn’t voluptuous, so much as lissom and shaped. She had delicate hands and a… delicate disposition. Requiem thought that if she fell, she would break. He mentally scowled at the cliché. He'd been asleep far too long if he was reduced to that.

That long black hair drooped into the young woman's eyes, and she made a show of blowing it to the side. Requiem was suddenly drawn to the brunette’s face and he felt his heart give a little klathump. This young girl was beautiful. Her face was sculpted, shaped in fragile curves and sensitive cheek bones. She had wide and remarkably green eyes that complemented her striking features perfectly. Looking at the girl in her entirety, Requiem found her beauty almost blinding.

He had seen beauty. He had been alive when they painted the Sistine Chapel and he had walked the halls of the Vatican, stood beneath the sensually smiling Ariadne whose petal-like drapery was a reflection of pure sweetness and tender femininity. He had…

Of course he wasn't comparing that girl, this creature in his doorway to the overtly feminine Ariadne but there was something wasn't there... Something quite clearly beautiful about her. And he knew that there was nothing he could do to deny that catching the green eyes in the mirror was doing wonders for his bloodless heart.

"I... I didn't mean to disturb... I just...."

"It's quite alright." He replied, seeing the sheepish flush across the tender cheeks and smirked, "I suppose you were looking for something?"

"Ummm... something like that I..." The green eyes peeled themselves from the floor, "I was told where to go when I over heard you and Leon talking and I... I was curious."

"Oh."

Well at least she was honest. He valued nothing so much as honesty in a person. It was impossible not to respect it as a trait. After all, should that be lost then everything would be for naught.

"I see."

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you at all."

"Don't be sorry. I secretly enjoy being disturbed."

There was a pause... "Why is your back to me?"

"Because I cannot see you properly this way. I don't trust you."

*

Lesedi frowned. This man... for that's what he was, seemed almost invisible in the darkness of the room. She could see a shadow, a shape against the glitter of the mirror in which she herself was silhouetted.

"You're scared of me?"

"Not exactly."

And the man spoke in riddles. How was that an answer? She frowned again and shifted uneasily.

"You can come in and sit down if you want. I don't mind."

"I thought you didn't want me to come and see you."

"You heard that?"

"I... yes..."

The man laughed, the sound light and easy and musical just like the rest of his voice. The room began to take form as she stepped closer, then closer again, letting the door fall shut behind her.

"God... this place is like stepping back in time."

The man's voice seemed to hold a smile as he responded, "That's because... in many ways... it is..."

"What do you mean?" The dusty drapes, the dark with dust were decidedly gloomy and she was sure that this place didn't look like anything she could imagine any other home being like. It was as if no one had lived here for centuries.

"This house... my home... hasn't been redecorated since 1798 when I gutted the lower rooms and rebuilt them after a... decidedly nasty fire."

There was a bitter tone now in the stranger's voice.

"Whoa... really?" That was hundreds of years ago! She had been right! Then she realised what the man had said, "1798... when you... gutted the lower rooms."

"Yes."

"You gutted the rooms in 1798."

Lesedi was scared now, she could feel a strong thread of cold tying itself around her throat in a constricting coil of muting iciness.

"It's a very old house."

"But... that's impossible. You weren't alive then! You can't have been!" She let the shake in her voice bubble out and flood into her words, "You'd be ancient."


*

There was only silence and the room began to feel heavier, more oppressive the agonising words making his eyes drop to the carpeted floor. This was why he'd said to Leon that he shouldn't see the girl... He was going to make her fear him. And there was no way to take back his words, he hadn't realised what he had said at first.

"I guess I am..."

"But-"

"I know that this is strange to hear... but... you'll understand it all soon." Requiem felt sadness seizing his heart as he realised he was going to have to push the girl away. He could feel how close she was; see that she had almost reached the chair behind his own before stiffening and trying to comprehend what she was being told. He saw a frown crease the furrowed brow and he lowered his head in shame.

"I… I… I've got to go. Leon'll… he's probably looking for me."

Requiem said nothing, just watching with glazed over eyes at the retreating figure of the girl whose mere presence had seemed to burn in the room. He sighed, scowled and pulled his knees in tighter to his chest. He was being pathetic. And he knew it.