Читать книгу Aris Reigns: The Kingdom of Vampires - Devin Morgan - Страница 10

Prologue

His back was stiff, his stride furious as he paced in front of Sarah, eyes daring her to look away. “I have been many men to you. DeMarco from your human life and De Flores, the vampire King whom your Immortals fear. I am both of these, vampire and one in the same.” Menacingly, he stepped closer; close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her face. His skin was pale, deathly white, all of the golden tones of the man she knew in Chicago gone. His wavy black hair, which had always been so groomed, hung in tangles down the back of his neck and over his forehead into his eyes. The boots on his feet were soft black leather. She could see the defined muscles in his legs as they strained against his tight, well-worn jeans. In the dim light of the lanterns, she could see he wore a dark knitted sweater under his black leather jacket. “And, I was yet another to you in a life long ago, a human man. One you seem to have forgotten altogether.” He spoke softly in a threatening whisper. “Diego.”

“Diego?”

“Yes. Diego.” Raising his voice until it echoed against the stone walls. “The gypsy you pledged your undying love. The gypsy whose heart you entranced in that English forest more than five hundred years past, whose body and soul you possessed.” Clenching his fist, he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought for control. When he spoke again, his words were soft, clipped and filled with menace. “I have not forgotten you in over five centuries. I have searched the globe to find you. And when at last I do, I find you in love with another. An Immortal.” He snarled, hate contorting his handsome face into something monstrous and terrifying. “Your Aris.”

Sarah realized she wasn’t breathing just before he lunged at her. She gasped for air as he grabbed her by the shoulders; he shoved her toward the window with such force she feared he might throw her through the glass onto the stones below. After only a moment she realized he was pushing her toward a tall wing-back chair hidden in the shadows in the corner of the enormous room. Unceremoniously, he threw her onto the chair as he shouted. “Sit.” He fought to restrain himself from striking her; he knew he could kill her with one blow, but that would bring him no joy. He wanted her alive and terrified. He began to pace. When he spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous. “Do not move.”

She couldn’t move if she wanted to. The shock of being brought before the evil vampire King, the very devil that was leading his troops in war against Aris and his Immortals, in his throne room in the heart of a medieval castle only to find that the bloodsucker holding her prisoner was none other than her Italian ex-boyfriend from Chicago was more than she could handle. She was frozen to the spot. Unable to face him, she stared at her shoes. They were a perfect fit. Her addled brain wondered how her captors knew what size she wore and why they cared. When she was kidnapped from London and the safety of her Immortal friends by the vampire Queen who brought her to this God-forsaken place, she was in bed in a luxurious historical hotel, barefooted. She had fallen asleep on a soft, warm bed only to wake up bound and gagged, bouncing down a rut-filled road in the back of a jeep, slapped around by some crazy vampire woman who seemed to be looking forward to torturing her to death. Now she stood before the vampire King who appeared to think torture was a pretty good idea as well and all she could think about was her shoes. She was sure she had lost her mind.

King DeMarco grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His mouth softened for only an instant before the menace returned. He tore his hand away and continued pacing. “In that time long ago when your father snatched you from Diego, from me, I went mad. I roamed the woods like an animal mourning your loss. When, at last, I returned to the gypsy camp my grandmother told of a vision she had of you in the court of Henry VIII. I set out to follow you to London and there I found you at court. Do you remember?” He stopped in front of her, stooping down, resting his hands on the tufted arms of the chair in which she sat. She felt like a trapped animal. A trapped wolf will chew off its own leg to get free. She vowed she would do whatever it took to escape this wretched place. She remained silent in fear that any word from her might drive him over the edge.

“Ýes, I found you at court in London. I came to you. You shunned me. You turned me away. You told me you loved another.” There was madness in his eyes as, once again, he gripped her face in between his huge hands. “But I loved you still.” Suddenly his black eyes softened as they locked onto her frightened ones. Almost tenderly he pulled her to her feet. Suddenly his body grew rigid, he began shaking. Instantly repelled by his sudden urge to hold her, he threw her back down onto the chair.

Slowly he paced a circle around her as he spoke. “I watched the palace. I followed you to the ship on the day you set sail for Spain when Cardinal Woolsey exiled you to be married. I stowed away, but before the ship cast off, a sailor found me. He gave me over to the captain. Beaten and whipped, I nearly died from the great loss of blood and the infection that set into my wounds.” He tore the jacket from his shoulders, pulled the sweater over his head and threw both of them on the floor. His muscles strained with anger. His body looked powerful, invincible. “Do you see this? Wounds so deep even my vampire body retains the scars.” He spun on his heel, exposing his nude back to her.

Even in the soft lantern light she could see the long silver scars running from shoulder to shoulder, crisscrossing his spine to his waist and below.

Turning to face her, he picked up his jacket and put it back on, his pale chest a striking contrast to the black leather. “I took a thrashing for you because you once said you loved me. The wounds on my back healed, but the wound in my heart remained open and bleeding. I vowed I would find you, win you back. I was obsessed to have you for my own.

“When I healed sufficiently to work, I signed on to a ship’s crew bound for Spain. They drove us like dogs and I grew strong once more in spite of my ordeal. It was only after we landed that I learned you were dead, killed by a storm at sea. Again, I mourned my loss of you.

“Desiring solace, I traveled the countryside unaccompanied and on foot, learning the lay of the land. It was then I found this very castle occupied, in those days, by minor royalty. I secured work inside its walls as an apprentice to the lord’s blacksmith. I lived a quiet life, alone and finally at peace, for more than two decades. Then in my forty-second year, the blacksmith died without a wife or child; he willed me his small house and his blacksmith tools. I took pride in my work and made a decent living.” He stared out the window, possessed for a moment by human memories. His expression eased and Sarah could finally see DeMarco, the man she had cared for, in this vampire King standing before her.

Without warning his eyes hardened; his spine stiffened. His voice grew gruff as he continued. “One evening as I walked in the forest, I was set upon by two of the fabled undead. I had heard of vampires before but I did not know they truly existed. The two males dragged me to their encampment and there, took my human life.” DeMarco paused, staring into a far distant past. After a moment, he continued his story; Sarah strained to hear his soft whisper. “For three days I suffered the fires of hell. When the pain stopped, I knew that I was the same as they, one of the undead.”

Again, he stooped down before her, his eyes level with her own, pain clearly visible in his dark gaze. “I knew there was no turning back, no way out, so I quietly accepted what I had become.” Tearing his eyes from hers, he stood and began anew to pace. “I lived within the coven, yet apart from it. I learned all I could about vampire lore. As the years passed, I heard tales of the Catacombs. The legends said the Catacombs was a place of great learning; their libraries contained books with the secrets of life and death. Never forgetting for a moment my only true love, my Elizabeth,” he spun on his heel to face her, a sneer narrowing his eyes and his smile holding nothing but disdain as he spoke. “Yes you, Sarah, in an incarnation where you loved me and betrayed me.” Sarah was shaking, terrified he would end her life any moment.

After an interminable silence, walking away from her toward the window he continued speaking in a soft, measured voice. “But I believed if I could find her, find you, in a future life, I could win you again. I realized if I could get my hands on those books, I just might be able to do it. My deep love for you was my last vestige of humanity, all that was left of my human life and I clung to it like a drowning man.

“I plotted my journey to the vampire underground kingdom in London, concocting a plausible story as to why they should admit me to their society. I heard of others who left Spain for London and had been welcomed and lived there still.

“I set sail for England, working my way across the sea on a merchant ship. It took weeks before I reached my destination, but to a vampire, there is no such thing as time and so I was patient.

“I appealed to the great Council.” His scorn was evident when he spoke the word ‘great.’ “I told them I longed for a peaceful life, a life without being a beast of human prey. They believed me and, after much time and testing, I was accepted. I worked diligently, building a reputation as an honorable Immortal.” He laughed and it was an ugly sound as it reverberated off the stone walls. “It took centuries, but, as I said, what is time to a vampire. At long last, I managed my way into the most elite circle, those who work on the Infinity Diaries, the very books of life and death that I had traveled to uncover. I was given primary responsibilities that I readily accepted and fulfilled. After decades of pristine work, I gained the trust of the Master Keeper of Records. He gave me what I was looking for, access to the ancient scrolls. The delicate job of updating and copying the ancient scrolls was delegated to me; transferring them into current volumes representing each soul that had ever walked the earth.

“Working with determination, I searched until I found the soul-chart of Elizabeth Wyatt. It was there I learned about Sarah Hagan of Chicago. Research is quick and most accurate on the internet so I found out everything I could about the psychologist and newly famous author from Illinois. I read your book on reincarnation. It made me laugh that you believed in past lives yet did not remember yours. I vowed to make you remember. I vowed to make you love me. I devised a plan to win you once again.

“I took my leave of the Catacombs, arriving in Chicago where I found you and courted you as DeMarco Brassi. I hoped you would feel something when you saw me, remember me. But you did not.”

His voice was low, muted with contempt. She shivered as he whispered, “I became everything you could ever want. I learned all there is to know about your trade. For all purposes, I became a psychologist. All that was missing was the university degree. I studied re-incarnation. I gave you lively debate and intellectual stimulation. I respected your wishes concerning intimacy. I offered you all the love and security that you could ever desire. DeMarco Brassi deserved your love, but you gave it to another. You turned from me yet again and for that second time, Sarah Hagan, you will die.”