Fire and Blood Part I
@Rosaimee

She was a rare gem, as rare as she could be, even for the Romanies. A red haired baby born to this clan, having never occurred before, could have been taken as a token from the gods, but not to them, not this time. The tribe members mourned the death of the patriarch's wife, taken as she was while giving birth. Gathered inside the tent, those allowed in, comforted the man, who moaned bitterly cradling in arms the newborn.

'There's evilness in that baby Django ...' the man glared over at the fortune teller as she broke into the leader's tent, clinking a bag of seashells and already speaking. 'She has taken her mother's life and soul to make her own way into this world. And so many lives she'll snatch to suffix her hunger, to quench her thirst for blood.'

'Stop mad woman! A wicked witch you are Ágata!' Django stood on his feet, still carrying the weeping creature in arms.

'Wicked you say? Witch you call me? Wicked is that little demon you hold in arms, no scattered star, so she'll grow to be a dark witch!'

'How dare you! Take her out! Strip her robes off and whip her in bare backs! Drag her out into the woods and never let her come back!'

As ordered by the Voivode, three men hauled the woman, throwing her out the tent. There, they did as instructed, having the entire Kumpania witnessing the brutal reprimand.

'She's doomed! Mark my words! That baby is doomed!' was Ágata's last sentence before she'd be dragged, half dressed, covered in blood out the camp.

By himself, the loving father raised little Calista, always beneath his protective wing. The patriarch's daughter was different to the rest of the kids. Unlike the bronzed skin of those in her kin, hers was as white as lily petals and her hair was a flaming summer sunset. Sapphire eyes pierced everyone she looked at, alone with the silence of her tiny rosebud lips, as the girl hardly ever spoke a word in company...

Quiet Calista only hummed when dancing by herself inside her tent, her speech often limited to nodding and short phrases. She was never interested in playing games with other children in the tribe, as they were not fond of her either, often calling her strange.

Calista was seven years old when the day came for Django to have cause in marking the witch's words. While brushing his mare, he watched the girl playing in the water, when he noticed fish floating dead around her. Fearing an animal in the river had killed the fish, he hurried to take Calista out the shallow creek. Shaking his head in disbelief, he saw the moment when his daughter reached downwards to a meandering golden fish, only to touch it with her index finger. The creature stopped moving and then emerged to the surface to float away with the rest, dead.

Heart plundering in his chest, he lifted Calista in arms and placed her on a rock. 'Did you kill the fish?' Looking straight into her eyes, his tone was more a statement than a question.

A tear rolled down the lass' rosy small cheek while nodding in affirmation.

'Since when can you do this? Tell me please, Calista!'
Perhaps unaware of what exactly she had done, with a glowing and genuine innocence on her face, she shrugged shoulders and just wept.

'Don't you cry my girl. See, we Domari respect life ... nature is for us to borrow, to bond to. We don't take others lives because that's not in our hands and never is it our will to choose. Promise me Calista, no matter how deeply you wish to, you'll never do this again. Do you promise me?' Fatherly, Django held his only child's shoulders, reassuring the plea with a tender smile.

'Yes daddy', the affirmation came in a whimper.

'Good. Let's go home. Let's keep this our little secret', and holding hands, the man helped the girl climb down the rock, then both walked towards the horse.

'I killed mommy, did I?' Calista pulled her father's hand as they walked, urging him to look down at her.
'What? Wait! No! Who told you that?' He knelt in front of her, cupping her chin with tenderness.

'Mommy told me ... she comes to me in my dreams.'

Years passed by and Calista grew to become a gorgeous young lady. With age, she developed other abilities, while learning to control the power within her. Other than killing by accident or boredom, nothing more sentient than a few spiders and butterflies, the teenager kept loyal to the promise made to her father ten years since, to respect life and to follow her kin's costumes and traditions, despite not being considered by the rest as one of them.

It took some time to earn respect as a fortune teller and healer, as her life unfolded with relative normalcy. Being more feared than admired, the redhead never gained a friend or suitor, though she was past the age of marrying, and the fairest of them all in her clan.

But they say nothing lasts forever and promises, promises are meant to be broken. One morning, the sun peeped through the foliage to kiss Calista's bared and wet skin while bathing in the river. Summer had never been that hot as long as she remembered in Catalonia. She'd had known better, but witches never see the future through their own eyes. Calista was not alone.

While emerging to the surface, three men, all of them Romanies from her tribe, watched her, eyes filled with lust and evilness, from the shore. While the girl never saw them coming, she knew well their intentions. In no time they dived into the water, swiftly swimming towards the redhead, who struggled to get out of the river. Taller and stronger, the trio reached her on the other side of the stream. It was so easy for them, having no other obstacle than her fine cotton underskirt, already impregnated to her nakedness. While two of them held her arms, the third one opened her legs apart and forced him into hers.

Cries were muzzled by the man's hand. She realized there was just one way to stop them ... it was their life, or hers. Grabbing the guy to her right by the wrist, the redhead sent a pulse that jerked him back. With her free hand, Calista reached the ones on top of hers, and placing her index finger to his chest sent a pulse that paralyzed him, making him tumble to his side.

Crawling backwards, her eyes glowed as red as burning coals, watching with delight how after two or three violent seizures, his eyes went blank and stopped breathing.

'But it was in self defense! Don't you see the bruises on her body, the dry blood on her thighs! He raped her!' Calista's father begged to the tribe's council.

'You know the law Django. An eye for an eye ... and the boy is not here to defend himself as you're for your daughter.'

'I know the law. They took my daughter's honor!' The patriarch's voice cracked filled with rage and impotence, staring at his girl.

'And she'd taken a man's life!' An elder reposted. 'You're even.'

'With dark magic!' another member of the clan's council added. 'You knew she cast dark spells and omitted it to the tribe. It wasn't only in her to foresee the future; she's gifted with an evil power, a forgiven art to the Romanies. You know it Django. You always knew it ... and now is not in your hands to decide.'

'Exile', pronounced the oldest of the men.

'Exile', the rest repeated in unison.

The words echoed in Calista's head while staring blankly to the horizon, a curved line swallowed by steep hills below, dying on the placid lake's surface that began to frost. Standing at the top of a craggy peak, a tear rolled down her face while watching a gypsy caravan meandering through the forest. They were once her kin, but she never was one of them. She now knew well. Her destiny was never to be a Romani, or any sort of a human being. She was born only to die and be reborn as a vampire.

Another tear escaped her blue eyes, just to be taken away, carried by the cold winter breeze.

'Past is a heavy burden on the shoulders of someone who can see the future' the blonde vampire with her spoke as stepping to her sides. 'You've been not in your best mood today, mistress Calista.

'I don't know, it's been a long time since this nonbeating heart feels like wrinkling ... something is wrong here Ana, but the message is not clear yet.
'Of course, it's your racing heart ... ha! You see what I did there? Raisin, racing, huh.' The servant smirked to her own joke.

'You always cheer me up Ana ... Let's go hunting!' The vampire's lips curved up in a smile.
'Yes! Hunting! The last one is a rotten corpse!'
Calista let her servant take the lead just to have a look down once more to the colorful display of the moving Romany caravan, the only colors to be seen in Pallars' bleak winter.

A few miles into the deep woods, where the Catalonian Pyrenees met an end, Calista and Ana fed each on a duo of unfortunate campers, hunters that despite being armed with rifles, were not a fight to both female vampires. 'Behead then Ana.' After taking the man's the last drop of blood, a satisfied vampire instructed her servant while rinsing her hands in a natural spring flowing down the mountain's rocky surface. 'We better move on. Someone is coming.'

'It always gives me Goosebumps when you say that', the servant hurled away the head in her hands. 'It always amazes me how attuned you are ...'
Not attuned enough so Calista might think. The thumping sound made by approaching stallions made both Calista and Ana halt. It only took a few seconds to meet the cavalcade. Not an ordinary one, but soldiers from Prince Lucio, who'd promptly dismounted to render a reverence.
'Princess Calista ...'

'There's been a long time since I don't wear that crown you fools. What do you want? I mean, what does that piece of drunken leech want now? Don't waste your time; tell him I'm not going back to that snakes nest!'

'I'm afraid, m'lady, this time you won't have any other choice.' One of the bulky vampires addressed an envelope to her.

There was no need to open the missive, while she was struck by the content of it. The envelope shook in her hands.

'Your presence is requested upon the court. It's the Prince's last request.' After paying a final reverence, the vampire guards climbed effortlessly onto their horses and galloped away.

'Last request? What does it say?' The blonde servant asked.

'We're attending a funeral ... but first, we must clean thoroughly the house. Family is coming to visit.'

That night Calista tossed and turned on her bed. Rumbling voices inside her head didn't let her find rest. 'Damned!' Throwing bedspreads asides, a fuming vampire got up from bed. "Memories! Why? Always bumping in the night ... as if there was any difference', in a daunting soliloquy, she stood by the window, staring at the dwindling moon in the sky. 'I wish you'd never existed', a tear rolled down her pale cheek, tasting bitter on her lips.