1862-Present
Florence, Italy
🩸

I am an Angel of death.

Serafina serenaded herself, as she wrapped her fingers over the gilded rails above the opulent fete. Looking down at the dastardly society of drunk, and celebratory Florentine vampires.

They attended a masquerade. To celebrate vampire prestige, the ways of old. Not a single soul other than herself wore any semblance of modern fashion, only adorned in what was popular during the Renaissance. Which was probably the last era they enjoyed alive. To be frank, she was tired of it. Parading around the streets of this newly formed country, fretting about how things were better before. How they as beings of the night were superior because they lived through the "peak of enlightenment."

All it did was remind Serafina that pretentious fucks existed in every living and dead species on Earth.

I reign from the heavens, delivering fate to those below me.

Her red nails clicked, clicked against the metal cage that kept her at bay. Scraping as she glided over the marble, her eyes searching languidly for her target. It would not take long. Her most recent lover was not a man of humble comportment.

She adjusted her mask, plain black. Attached to it, was a lace veil that shrouded her like Mother Mary. Her dress was cut from black velvet, the material soft against her tanned skin. The sleeves bellowed at the wrist, flaring and lined with tulle. One tiny blood-red rose sat in the center of her heart-shaped neckline which then exposed the line of her collarbones as it hung off her shoulders. Her waist was embraced snuggly by the fabric and the wide curve of her hips and backside. She wore a tightened black corset over her torso, a protest, as it was what human women in Italy currently wore. Just scandalous enough to harvest some attention.

But not too much.

If no one looked too closely, she looked like any other reveler. For those who paid attention, she was dressed like a woman ready to bow her knee at the cathedral and mourn her loss to God above. Which would mean that they had seen too much.

As divine intervention would have it, she spotted him. Augustus.

Bile rose in her throat, though in her eleven years as a vampire, she found that it would never truly breach her stomach. Her hands held rigidly onto the railing until the metal started to sag under her fingertips. She felt her mouth pulsing, her fangs fighting to be freed from the soft prison of her gums. Her vision lined in red, and all she wanted to do was feel the decayed pump of dark blood that vampires acquired with age.

He was golden-haired, like the sun. A halo of sheer, classic perfection as he soared over the marble dance floor like a bird in flight. His face was defined by its sheer aristocracy. His body was not the tallest, nor proudest, but it held a flagrant confidence that little could pull off. And of course, he was dressed elaborately, his doublet threaded with gold and silver. His mask was the most ornate of them all, the head of a lion. Her nails nearly ripped the rails, as he circled a woman in his arms. Pretty she was, just as blonde and bold as he. They sailed into the thrall of violin strings and swirling dresses together. Although the woman in his arms was not the woman she caught him with, it would not be before long that he conquered her too.

It did not matter much longer.

He will be dead soon, my lover.

Serafina lifted her chin, rolling her shoulders back so she could unite with her adulterous Augustus. She headed down the closest staircase, keeping her face neutral despite her rising apprehension. She needed to move quickly.

Before—

The back of her neck prickled, alerting her to another's presence. She paused on the last step, the one closest to a dark, stone-carved hallway. Her heart pounded, though the beat is much more sullen than a human's.

I am already caught.

"Not now." She whispered in a seething manner from the side of her mouth. She eyed the long hallway, wondering if she could make her escape there. If they were seen by anyone else, it would not be her who received the punishment.

He was not supposed to be here. Not at this event. She should have known nothing, especially a silly party, would have kept him away.

A whisper of a touch ran down the spine of her corset. She shivered, her tongue meeting the top of her teeth in frustration.

"I wouldn't if I were you." A deep, serious voice sounded from right beside her. One that always sounded on the precipice of a smile, but rarely ever did.

Of course, he knows. And of course, he was going to try and stop her, even if it put himself at risk.

"Cian." She groaned out his voice, her head angled to the side though she knew he would not be standing there. He could appear in a solid state, or as an apparition. It would be a risk to materialize with this many eyes watching.

My over-protective, upright, and frightfully rigid confidant. Her Familiar. The supernatural soul that was tied to a vampire after they were sired.

The day she grabbed his hand to start her new life, she never let go.

They were inexplicably bonded. Two bodies and one soul sewed together. He appeared to her as a human, the black cat that had nestled into her side until she healed. He appeared again when she became undead, ready to guide her as she entered the underworld of the occult. Familiars are of the underworld, not demons, angels, saints, or ghosts. But shape-shifting beings with unknown origins clung to conduits of power, and are meant to serve them. 

He had the sense to show up when she needed him most, or when she was in trouble. And at much more inconvenient times. Cian could read on her face what decision she would make next, or what her thoughts were. They had known each other and been through too much to know any less. Through their soul bond, he could tell when she was angry, hurt, and even joyful.

He also tended to show up when she was feeling murderous.

She did not have to gesture for him to follow her. He simply floated with her, unseen as she moved through the dredge of dancing bodies and into the lone hall.

If she were human, she would shiver at the chill that settled in the long stone corridor. Instead, she waited, sour-faced and ready to defend her plan to death. Her shoulder blades rested against the stone as she stared ahead, a single candle illuminating the space. She did not question where her familiar went, she knew he was there. It was just a matter of being patient.

He appeared in shadow at first, with an outline of over six feet. Long limbs, and a blur against the background. Slowly, but surely, he became flesh and bone.

As soon as she could see his very-much-solid arms crossed in disapproval, she began her defense.

"Don't be so dull."

Though he was truly before her, the lack of light made it difficult to see him. But she did not need the light to know his expression. She could recall his face like the lines on her palm or the constellations in the sky. His brows were probably scrunched into a line, the veins on his arms fluttering with quiet anxiety.

He was probably maddened with his worry. Though it was often hidden under layers of refinement and brooding demeanor.

Neither knows who is dead, he or I. But god he could learn to live a little.

Serafina pressed closer to the wall as he stepped forward. When the candlelight above her head revealed the man covered in shadow, she was satisfied to find that she had predicted him without fault.

He towered over her, a wall of lithe muscle. They flickered by his side, tasted by the buttery glow of candlelight. She could see he had changed into something more suitable for a ball than his usual black attire, wearing a white blouse that ruffled in the center and showed off the contour of his chest. The only thing he had forgotten was a mask, making his disguise null.

He had to duck to avoid his thick, black, and waving hair from abrading into the ceiling. This motion brought his face much closer to her than he would usually allow, and it gave her a detailed view. Of his pale yet olive skin, so different from the sunshine she was used to. Sometimes she thought him to be of marble in the night if he appeared suddenly before her. His dark brows were low and slightly arched above his almond-cut eyes. Serafina had always been envious of his dark lashes, which curled up at the ends and only enhanced their slight tilt. It did not take away from the masculine arch of his nose, defined and Roman in its make. His cheekbones were high and narrow, leading into hollowed cheeks. Then gracefully supported by a carved jaw, one that met a delicately veined neck. His full and bowed lips were downturned, holding all of his emotions in the lines.

Most captivating and familiar of all-

Tourmaline eyes shifted between shades of teal and cobalt. They looked down at her incredulously like she had lost all sense of sanity.

"Don't be so daft."

She bit her lip, trying to wave off the shame only he could bring her. They were not like the others. There was no formality or institutional customs between them. Their relationship as it was already broke many, many rules. He did not have to fear her punishment if he misspoke, or rejected propriety. She saw him as an equal.

It only made his dissent worse. It meant she truly was insane.

Serafina fixed him with a glare, "Fuck off. This is my decision to make."

Cian flinched as she threw her curse toward him, but he had no one but himself to blame for that. She had been raised a good little Roman Catholic girl all her life. She had ripped out a man's throat, and yet she could not bring herself to utter expletives. It had been of his own volition and amusement that she began to use them, seeing just how much he could piss her off to get her to break.

His fault.

The man softened, changing his approach. The movement allowed her to scent him, a mixture of citrus, spice, and vanilla.

She stepped back as far as she could from him, her heels hitting the wall behind her.

He paused, sensing her stiff mannerisms, and moved back from the light. She let herself breathe again, out of habitual conformity. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, mimicking him. Preparing herself to be lectured.

"Of course it is. But this isn't some simple mistake, some mere breaking of the rules that you can blame on being new. This will cost you and me both of our lives." His deep voice thickened, almost pleading for her to understand. Serafina was grateful that he was now doused in shadow, and she could no longer see his face. Just his tone released guilt like a pit into her stomach.

She bit her tongue, not even attempting to point out that his being there was already a breach of rules that could get them executed. But he already knew that.

Cian severely offended and shamed the misguided vampires who believed themselves to be better. More intelligent, more talented, more blank than all other beings. It was the only way they could justify their familiar's servitude and the way they killed humans without a second thought. But they could not be more beautiful than my familiar, and it incensed more of them than I could fight off. Anyone could think of the most alluring man they have ever seen. The most chiseled statue. The most delicate and contoured painting. And then would meet her familiar, and agree that he surpassed them all in fineness.

While all familiars were banned from certain vampire celebrations and gatherings, there were instances where their uninvited presence was overlooked.

Cian would never be given the same grace.

It posed many issues.

Like when her lover had often barred him from their gatherings. Well, at least he tried to. Serafina threw a fit until he was permitted to enter the other man's estate. And like right now, when Serafina wanted to kill that very same ancient, nobleman vampire society without garnering attention.

Seraphina exploded, annoyed into letting go of her manners and civil discourse, "He had another woman on my bed. My bed! And he let her wear the diamond necklace he bought me! While he fucking-"

Cian held up a hand, while the other squeezed along the bridge of his nose. Stopping her before she could paint a lovely mental portrait for him. "Yes. And he is a part of the high council that oversees the European coven of vampires. Killing him is practically treason and it will end with your head on a spike. Killing a council member is forbidden. And frankly, just quite ridiculous." His eyes flared green in warning, "You are already being watched. You know what they suspect of you."

Yes, she knew what they thought of her. She knew she had little time before her mistakes finally caught up to her. No longer would her slightly human appearance, and her feigned incompetence protect her from what she was truly doing.

"I do not care. I have made up my mind. This affair will end with blood, and it will not be mine."

Cian laughed. He actually laughed at her. His white, straight teeth were a shock against his pink mouth. The rare sight of the lines of his dimples appeared on his cheeks, mocking her. His chest moved the white material of his shirt as he caught his breath. Serafina felt all the blood she ingested recently rise to her cheeks in a red wave.

What a prick!

"You have only been seeing him for three months."

Serafina gasped, holding a delicate hand to her chest. Her familiar's eyes caught the movement, and then quickly found her face again. The column of his neck shifted with his harsh swallow.

"What are you saying? That he did not hurt me?"

Every time her lover chose another, it was the same knife going into her chest. It brought her back to the ledge of her window when she decided to jump. Why was she not ever enough?

It made her feel powerless. And she hated that more than anything.

He shifted closer and she startled, watching him turn to mist and then reappear closer. A small transition, that took much less time than fully solidifying.

His stoic lips were now lifted at the sides, "No, I am saying you should replace him within the next week, as you have done with the others." His expression fell, losing its amusement. "All the men you see end up dead, or wishing they were. I supported you with Raphael. Alberto, Alonzo, Guiseppe...hell I even helped you kill a few and I would do it again." Serafina was startled at the sudden fervor in his voice, and he let his tense shoulders fall and then the anger dissipate from his expression, "I cannot save you from this."

I will not ask you to.

Serafina felt her chest constrict, their bond aching. She grabbed at the space over her heart, wishing it would stop. Knowing how much he feared for her was worse than anything else. "This is not like the others. It's true love. Well, it was."

Instead of chastising her more, he let out a quick scoff. She let out a similar breath, knowing it was a sign of his amusement with her strange mixture of overreaction and detachment. It meant while he did not agree, he would always be on her side.

It was the one thing that made this chance at un-life worth it.

"It's your deathbed Rin." His nickname for her was more melodic than the violin that drifted from the distant party.

"It's time for you to leave Cian."

Because if things go wrong, you will still have a chance. The woman did not dare utter those words aloud. It would make him throw her over his shoulder like produce, and bring them home. It has happened before, and she swore her body was forever bruised by the sharp jab of his shoulder blades and his arrogance. It did not happen often.

He always let her have a choice. Even if it was not the right one. 

"Just think about it before you do something you regret. I beg you." Hearing him say that aloud was jarring. He never begged for anything, and never from her. It made her question her entire need for revenge, "I could go for his familiar instead."

Serafina rolled her eyes, staring at the sharp point of her nails. Pressing them into her palms so she could feel their sharp bite, instead of her distaste for her lover's familiar. That was a different story.

"You've been waiting for the day."

She kicked off from the wall, maneuvering around the man. He stayed close to her, his head still bowed. She was heading closer and closer to the light of the main room, where he would not be hidden safely within the shadows. A signal that she wished for their conversation to be over.

Cian leaned onto the wall, his arm raised and blocking her from leaving. The thin cotton of his shirt did little to hide the strength underneath, and the light from behind revealed where his waist narrowed into his hips, "His familiar is a fucking bird Rin. It's positively ostentatious."

Serafina's eyes trailed over his stretched arm, his head bent near hers. The 'fucking bird' was not the only ostentatious being that existed. She thought of their last encounter altogether.

"She seemed to not mind your other form. Claws, meowing, and all." She curled her lip at the memory of the woman draping herself over her familiar after too many glasses of wine. The man had turned into a cat to avoid her. "She couldn't keep her eyes off of you."

"I hadn't noticed," Cian answered in a bored tone. Before his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the way she had turned to the side of the hall where his body was not blocking her. "And the fact you are trying to distract me is duly noted. It will not work." He placed his hands in his pockets, "Just as you will not get away with this one with a flash of your smile and a flutter of your lashes. This is serious."

And you will not get me to listen to you, with a flutter of your lashes and a flash of your smile.

It sounded bitter, and much too telling. Instead, she asked what she needed to hear most.

"You will be with me, right?"

She did not mean in a literal sense, no. She wanted him far away from the already hateful jaws of the important, high-status beings around them. Just that he would be waiting for her when she came home, covered in blood and tears.

His eyes were bright in the dark, "Without a doubt." He licked his lips, taking one more glance at her entire form. She knew little of what to do when his hand reached out. He looked conflicted for a moment and finally settled on brushing against the side of her cheek with his knuckle through the lace of her veil. "Always and until the end."

He was gone before the last of his words carried to her.

Serafina lifted her hand to her cheek, feeling where his hand had brushed. He had been so warm, while her cheek was the middle of Winter.

As close as they were, they never touched. Not like that. It was different when they were training, or fighting. But in any other instance, he kept a far physical distance between them, as all familiars do.

Fuck.

He must have little faith in her this time to survive.

It was a fatal blow to her confidence, that he was so unsure. And still, she walked back into the golden ballroom.

She passed through the throng of dancers, avoiding those pressing tightly against each other. Others were holding humans who were laying on the cliff of death, throats raw and red as they were fed by much older vampires. Lovers kissed openly, taking each other's tongue and caring little about who watched. Or maybe that was the allure. No matter what, Italy posed a grave paradox between light and dark. A symbol and purity and holiness. It was also home to the wild debauchery of dark, blood-sucking creatures. Both light and dark are somehow intertwined.

Sometimes she could not tell which was which.

She found her lover again, hidden behind beings in a fox and snake mask. They frolicked away, drowning in both red wine and blood. People cackled in her ear left and right, and usually elegant people bumped into her. Stepped on her skirts.

They were drunk in lust. Oblivious by delight.

She had a chance to get away. A chance not to get caught. At least, not before she escaped.

She grabbed wine from a servant that carried a glass on a silver platter. Downing the liquid quickly, she placed it back on the tray.

I am an angel, a disciple of death.

It was easy enough to push away the drunk blonde. She was a giggling mess and even tried to kiss the shorter woman on the cheek. Serafina patted her face playfully, before handing her off to the fox-masked male.

Augustus did not startle at her appearance, his expression grew warmer. The bite of wine was on his lips, and he pulled her into his arms lovingly. As if he had not betrayed her. As if he had not been entertaining another woman just tonight, right before her eyes.

"Serafina," He laughed joyfully. It did not meet the chocolate brown of his rounded eyes, "My love. I have been waiting for you to arrive, and bless me with your tender sweetness."

He must have had his mistresses confused. Because he could not possibly be describing her. Tender? Sweet? To whom?

"You have been having an affair." She stated bluntly, not becoming romanced by the spin of their bodies to the music. She barely registered the feeling of floating at all.

They met this way, three months ago. Their empress had called upon the Sanguis Council, or the Council of Blood, as some would call it. It was a body of noble and pure-blood vampires, meant to govern those that were sired later and not of a particular family name. Meant to keep all blood-wanton creatures in a strict line.

Seraphina had been on trial for the death of her recent lover.

He had been her prosecutor. Surprisingly, he had been interested in many things other than her supposed guilt. She had fallen, an angel to hell. He was centuries older, turned in France, and told her all about his adventures. Of history, and how life had changed through the years. He never asked her questions she could not answer. He was romantic and skilled in bed. It was easy. She thought it would last.

The man did not falter, nor frown. He only pulled her closer. She could hardly breathe without meshing into his ribcage.

"I would hardly call it an affair. You make it sound so tedious. What about a dalliance? Or a passionate liaison." He flashed her a smile, arching her over his arm.

He wished to make a mockery of her. Seraphine met his foolishness with acid, "I call it a lack of restraint."

Now, the ancient vampire looked confused. Hundreds of years, thousands of people, and the noble that led interrogations. And he still acted as if he were too inept to understand her pain.

"I would never tell you to starve yourself of blood or to deny yourself the pleasure of taking another man or woman into your bed. How could you ask me to deny temptation?"

We did not talk about this. She felt so naive. So incredibly fucking childish, as he offered her only condescending pity. She could see, that even as he held her in his arms, she bored him. He wanted fun and entertainment and she wanted commitment.

The only sin a woman could truly commit in the eyes of men.

"You told me you loved me, Augustus." She had not imagined it. She blinked, hoping that her eyes had not begun to bleed. Vampires did not shed tears of salt but of heartbreak.

Augustus paused in the middle of the marble floor, shielding her from swaying bodies. He used his thumb to graze the point of her chin. "My dear, you have only been a vampire for a short while. I understand your petty grievances stem from your ignorance, you poor thing." His brown eyes held no light in them as he continued to teach her all the ways life can be cruel, "As beautiful as you are my darling Serafina, did you truly believe I could only ever love you? I have been alive for 800 years and have been with many lovers. There are too many beings in this world not to enjoy as they come. I will love you, and I will love others. We are immortal, and forever is too long not to venture into all the pleasures we can find."

He said it like it was too much to ask of one man. She listened to him carefully, letting the words seep deeply into her bones and take root. As she did with every tragedy, she tasted it. Absorbing every emotion. Every new way she could be hurt, and used.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him sweetly. Tenderly.

"You truly believe we should all live without restraint? That we should do what would grant us the most pleasure out of life, even if it pains others."

The man looked at her with pleasure in his eyes, believing that it would end with her in his bed. "Yes, my love. All these years have taught me that we can only bring ourselves true happiness. No one else can give it to us. We have to take it, draw blood for it even."

"Then you will not hold this against me." She asked quietly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pulling him closer.

His teeth bit at his lips, watching her mouth move closer, "Pardon? I do not quite—"

His words were cut off when she cracked his neck, severing his movement. His eyes still moved, darkening with recognition as he realized that he had severely underestimated the young vampire he planned to use until there was nothing left.

"Your death is granting me all the pleasure that I need."

She latched onto his neck, a lover's embrace to every other being around them. They pirouetted, sashayed, and bent under her fingertips. Her tongue ran along the cold skin of his neck, and she pierced his largest vein. Suckling at the ripe blood that opened and ran a river along the flesh of her tongue. The blood of the ancients tasted sweet and somewhat fermented. She relished in the surge of power within her veins, the sickening strength she felt from her feet to her fingertips. This was a kill that would quell her most excruciating hunger for a year.

That is why she was put on trial, though she avoided conviction. It was just a coincidence all the lovers she murdered were over a hundred years old, and that their blood offered immense power and satiation. She was only a decade old and scorned, ignorant. No, she was not a serial killer to the most 'superior' of predators.

But she refused to feed those who did not deserve it. And now, from those who had no chance against her.

It was why she latched onto the veins of an older vampire.

Serafina had not drunk from a human since the day she murdered her first husband.

I am an angel of death, a new dawn. I will kill what has killed me.

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(A/N: Hey guys! First official chapter heheheh.

Please let me know if this is giving or not! It is super important, considering I am submitting it for a Wattpad competition. Constructive criticism is always welcome :)