Fire and Blood Part II

Dusk painted orange the skies in Catalonia. Calista climbed down her mare and tied it to a tree by the river. With great skills, she lit a bonfire and the lamps on her wagon, before night enveloped the woods.

Sitting on the cart's lower step, the redhead put a piece of honeycomb to a long stick and warmed it along with some slices of unleavened bread. It was always good to have a meal before going to bed. Once she'd eaten, Calista filled a bucket with water from the river and bathed under the full moon.

Humming a lullaby her father used to sing to her when she was a toddler; she ended sobbing until she got fully dressed by the bonfire. 'Good evening, signorina. Woods are never a safe place to a lady, even more in a night like this', the sultry male's voice came from the shadows.

Fear tingled on her skin, urging her to run off an imminent danger, but there was also a voice not coming from her head, a voice speaking through her pounding heartbeats telling her there was nothing to be afraid of. 'Show yourself," it came out as a command.

'There's boldness in the lady,' emerging from the darkness, he gave a step forward.

Eyes like rubies fixed to her while his thin lips curved up in an amiable smile. A foreigner, she knew by his features and his skin, even paler than hers, was porcelain perfect.

'You're not human,' she gasped, climbing backwards a step to her wagon.

'Neither you,' the stranger advanced towards hers.

'Me, you say? There's no heart beating inside of you!' Calista remained unscathed, feeling more curious than afraid. She'd seen so many ghosts in her life to be scared of another one.

'Oh, I see. I knew I was to find something special tonight ... but never thought of ... a witch,' he closed the gap between them. 'Come. Do you want to feel?' He took her hand with gentleness and placed it on his cold chest. 'Interesting. You've got the touch of dead. I can feel the pulse, a stinging in my quiet heart.'

'What are you?' Her lips shivered to his closeness.
'A creature of the night, just like you ... but, why don't we go inside of that charming wagon of yours to talk? As I told you before, woods are not a safe place for a lonely traveler.'

Hypnotized by the foreigner's handsomeness and soothing talk, the redhead only nodded and holding hands, they walked into the cart.

It was late night when the first visitors arrived. The most elegant entourage stationed in the front yard of the mansion. Calista recalled, the last time she found herself surrounded by so many vampires was the time she lived with Prince Lucio ... when she believed she was his princess.

Quite a spectacle to witness it had been ... the bright colorful display ... an exotic and surreal parade in the main hall. Coming from every corner of the world, a dozen vampires traveled to Catalonia, to have a meeting on a pressing matter; their prince agonized and all of them, coven leaders, had been summoned. A successor had to be chosen.

In the salon, everywhere you looked, a perfect in appearance creature stood. Saracen god-like creatures from Egypt, refined and classic from London and France, African descendant divinities, and others of either bohemian or rustic comeliness, which one of them more gorgeous than the other.
Calista climbed down the stairs, her hips swayed with cadence under the see-through satin of the gown she wore. Forcing a welcoming smile, the red haired greeted her guests.

'Welcome to Santa Helena's castle. It's been a long time since the last time we met, isn't it? Make yourselves comfortable ...' Calista gestured the servants to come. Some of them took their luggage upstairs while others served each a glass of fortified wine. 'A little refreshment to warm up.'

'My lovely', imprinted with a thick British accent, a most handsome vampire approached, while kissing the duchess' hand. 'Thank you for inviting me. We had so much fun the last time I spent a season. With you. Here. Remember?'

'Yes, I remember Henry. And you're lucky to be still alive. You know that I could have killed you centuries ago ... perhaps ... now ...' Glowing a mischievous grin on her face, her index finger pointed down to his groin. 'Did you know I've learned to kill a man by parts?'

'No, no, no. Wait, honey ...' He gave a step backwards.

'Vlad, is there such a thing as a revival cure for a dead ... thing?' Calista addressed a tall, bulky vampire with a scar on his face.

'I'm afraid not ... not even a spell.' He laughed out loud.

'This is so much fun! We're here for couple's therapy.' After sipping wine from his glass, another vampire added sardonically.

'I bet now he'll think twice before calling honey a woman.' Arching an eyebrow, Adora, the mythical Llorona, scuffed in a bitter tone.

'Damned it be Henry! This is not a couples' retreat ... at least not with you. You English leech!' She made her way towards the group.

'And speaking of retreats ... where's my negrito lindo? Here he is ...' Cupping the bronzed skinned vampire's chin, Calista's voice softened in a sensual tune. 'It's been a long time since we ... huh ... met at Port of Palos. Remember, Garan? You don't know how glad I am you left that Yiyí for good. I guess Marissa is more ... easy to handle. Incest is a sin, you know ...' Her lips curved up in a wicked grin.

It was enough to bring the assembly to a halt. Calista never committed mistakes, but she had a touch of prophecy, a remnant from her days as a witch.

Words would escape her lips in trivial conversations, phrases that filled those who heard it with a sense of dread, or déjà vu. Usually, those visited by her gift would dare ask further, but Lindsey didn't stop to consider, he simply continued.

'You didn't seem to mind when you were your father's whore.'

Twitching her mouth, the redhead stepped back, squaring eyes in disgust. 'The Prince and I are not tied by blood ...'

'Really? Blood is the strongest bond within us.' The god-like African vampire retorted.

'That and sex! Cheers!' Cara Mía raised her glass, while fanning her long lashes and blowing a kiss to the group.

'Well, let's sum-up this queridos míos', Calista spoke to the group. 'In three days all of us will be at Lucio's castle playing who killed the prince..."

'But he's not dead', Cara Mía interrupted.
'Not yet. But he will soon.'

How do you know?'

'Don't you forget I was a witch before turning into a vampire.'

'Let's not forget who turned you into one.'

'Maybe that's why, I feel he's gonna die soon ... but the bastard resists.'

'So much hate spilling out those rosebud lips.'
'You know I've got my reasons. That's not an issue here ... the issue is, and I'm guessing, they need a successor, a righteous heir to the throne, and he or she can only be one of us.'

'There was once a princess to Lucio.'
'Not anymore! My apologies for the tone ... Anyway, here's the plan. There's a tourist cruise ship to aboard tomorrow midnight at Barcelona's port. It will be fun guys. Remember when the plague was blamed for every stranded ship piled up with dead bodies? Everything is set up for the trip. Now, have some rest. We'll refine details tomorrow morning ... Well, I'm exhausted ... Mi casa es su casa ... The servants will guide you to your rooms, but just a bit of a warning, there are seventeen human servants in this castle. And I said servants, not dinner. I'm counting cattle-heads in the morning ...'

On her way towards the stairs, the host made a stop in front of the Egyptian vampire, placing her hand on his chest. Closing the gap between them, she brushed his leg with her knee. 'I'd love a private dance tonight ... Son ... of ... none.' Lust gleamed in her bright blue eyes while biting her lower lip.

'My act is a luxury, not everyone is willing to pay.' A half smirk drew on the gorgeous Saharan creature.
'Ha! Your real name might be a well-kept secret, dancing sphinx, but her affairs are a busy talk. There's no need to play games here.' Arching an eyebrow, Cara Mía added, her tone hinted in irony.

'You can come too, if you want Cara Mía. My bed is big enough for us three.'

'I'm reluctant to pay, what I can get for free... and all to myself.' There was no hidden message in the belle Bohème's reply. She let escape a chuckle.

'Touché." Lazlo cracked, serving himself another glass of wine.