PHIDIAS II: Contact in Venice

 

 

 

 

Phidias was silently sitting down in one of the outer living rooms of his splendid house at Hampstead, London. To tell how me managed to make off with a property worth almost twenty-five million pounds would require a long and complicated story involving a remarkably bohemian and childless English peer, the patronage of an important work of art, and the impersonation of several people, actors in the drama with comedy touches which all this business turned into. Suffice it to say the vampire wished to possess a haven in the frequented metropolis, was pleased with the cultural and artistic atmosphere, the wonderful gardens granted convenient privacy to the place... and his tastes were expensive and exclusive.

The mansion was therefore surrounded by a large garden with an ornamental pond and two swimming-pools, one of them indoor, and had an almost square base with four floors. The inner light court had been closed; consequently, the central windowless rooms were a safe place for a vampire.

But there were occasions in which its owner felt like sitting down at a clear, non-illuminated living-room, surrounded by huge picture windows that showed the night landscape, studded with lights. That night, the next one after Elias' embrace, his maker took him to Soho (presumably for some hunting training) and their host stayed behind, in the privacy of those familiar walls, surrendering to memories. He still felt a bitter aftertaste; it looked like the end of an age, and even if he knew things would continue more or less unchanged, his loneliness had become stronger than ever. He remembered...

Venice, 1788, at one of the balconies of Palazzo Palladini on its Grand Canal facade; a gorgeous lady in a party dress, with long black hair that could capture the moon reflection, was leaning on it, alone and silent. She would make an exquisite view from the door of the clear room she was occupying: her delicate shape in semi-darkness, her naked arms resting on the stone rail, her cheek lying on them... That was, at least, the impression she wanted to inspire when the person she was waiting for crossed the threshold. Instead, she was startled by some noise coming from a close balcony, and then a voice:

'I contemplated thee from the street, and thy vision spurred my appetites on beyond measure. I went through every possible trouble to reach this place; hence my frustration when I discovered... Thou art not good to eat.'

The lady turned around, quick as lighting, to face the newcomer. Despite darkness, her acute senses revealed him to her as a young male in his twenties, blond-haired, with eyes the colour of honey and white skinned, but with cheeks of a healthy colour. He spoke Venetian with a strong Eastern European accent... and he was a vampire. There was no doubt about it, even before he openly smiled and shamelessly showed the outline of his pointy fangs.

She considered the situation: Was he an enemy, or a simple onlooker just searching for a human to feed himself? Would she have time to eliminate him before her real target's arrival? And yet, he should be a newcomer to the city or an nomad, since he wasn't a member of the Giovanni family, vampire rulers of the Republic; he didn't seem to be wearing any kind of mask, either.

As if he could read her thoughts, the bronze-haired vampire raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

'I am no enemy, rest assured. I can see thou art not a Giovanni, so it is possible we might have common acquaintances.' A sound coming from the corridor behind the doors made then turn around at the same time. 'Well now, looks like we have a visitor.'

'Clear off, or I will take care of thee later,' commanded the woman, in a perfect Venetian.

The stranger grinned but disappeared into the room. As for the lady, she carefully adopted her pose and waited. The door silently opened around its well oiled hinges and somebody entered the chamber, sonorously puffing. He stopped to get his breath back, although he lost it again soon enough, as the vision by the window truly pleased him.

The lady stood, seductively, and offered her delicate hand to his companion, a bearded, rotund gentleman. About the next scene... Well, the sound of moans, sighs and panting gave a good hint of its development.

'Upon my soul, that was fast!'

The lady, already at her boat, finished casting off, without turning around. She knew pretty well the vampire with the foreign accent would approach her upon leaving the Palladini's; she knew as well he would mock her, as he could have not resisted the temptation of staying and hearing. At least he had no chance of listening to any relevant subject.

'Get on board and guide me to thy haven, unless thou wantest to gaze at thy own figure from a distance,' she demanded; the addressee knit his brows with simulated worry, but obeyed.

After a while they arrived at a gate in a narrow alley, with a rusty hook the vampire used to secure the boat; the water reached the floor. He opened the metal-reinforced wooden gate and looked at his companion; as she hesitated, he pompously bowed and pointed toward the inside.

'I beg thee, grant me the honour of being my guest; however, if I am not trustworthy enough, forgive my audacity if I walk before thee.'

He showed his mocking smile and did so; she followed him into the darkness, once he locked back the gate. The walked along a damp and smelly corridor, dark as pitch, their feet partially immersed into water. Then they climbed a staircase leading to an empty and dusty kitchen; from there, they entered a sitting-room with ruinous, eaten-away wooden furniture; then a new staircase and finally, a barely habitable bedroom with a small parlour. The host finally stopped and lit a lamp. The lady looked around in disapproval, to his amusement; then he spread his cloak on a high-back chair covered with shabby velvet and offered it to his guest.

'Art thou giving me thy name, milady?' he asked, sitting as well.

'After thee. In any case, I am much more interested in those common acquaintances of whom thou spokest before.'

He smiled, making an apparently casual gesture with his hands, and removed his gloves. She raised her eyebrows, her face showing a look of understanding, and repeated the gesture.

In the world of kindred, the undead, there were diverse factions; some independent, others in conflict, and all of them with different agendas. Certain signals had been established so that members of one of the most numerous factions could recognise each other; in the city of Venice, if you didn't belong to the Giovanni family, your existence could be in serious trouble... It was extremely risky to interfere their business, and the whole Republic seemed to be, in fact, their business.

'Who sent thee?' she asked.

'The cardinal. He told me I would find one of our kind, but no more details were offered. Apart, of course, from a detailed description of all the Giovanni in the city. There was the possibility thou wert a nomad or one of the Others, but... Mind thee, such a charming threat of gazing at my own body from a distance is so popular among our kind that it did not leave any doubt.' He smiled again, showing off his fangs; he seemed naturally mocking, and in the candlelight the lady could study his attractive physiognomy; his long bronze hair, tied in a ponytail (he wasn't wearing a wig); the golden sparkle in his honey-coloured eyes; his cheeks, delicately flushed, far from the natural paleness of their species... 'By the way: if by any chance thou wishest to address me by my name, and not by an insult, call me Tosha; at thy service, milady.'

'I know a place by a similar name... Albeit thou dost not look like a Turk, nor does your accent.'

'It is a Russian name, milady; as for my accent... Alas, I am afraid I have not been familiar with these lands long enough... And incidentally, I say 'lands' in a humorous manner.' As he spoke, he removed his ornate jacket and loosened his tie. 'And your grace's name is...'

'Milady will suffice for now.' Tosha grimaced. 'And tell me: is that his Eminence Benavides found any reason to complain about my actions that he sent thee to watch me?'

'Ha, ha, ha! Not at all, milady. Thou tookest care of that Palladini fattened swine very well, although I must confess I would not approach him even if I was starving...'

'Art thou trying to deliberately provoke me?' she asked coldly, a steel gaze in her dark eyes. 'Because I received no orders about respecting thy neck.'

Her voice was disdainful, and Tosha was certain she wasn't joking. She didn't seem to have a sense of humour; most certainly, she didn't share his... The vampire gazed back at her, a half smile at one corner of his lips.

'That may be the case; or maybe, I am jealous of that human grease ball receiving from thee favours of which I can only dream. Since thou art extremely beautiful, milady, I think it is such a shame.'

'And it would not be if thou wert the receiver of those favours... Is that what thou meanest?' she pointed out, after some hesitation. She didn't expect such a straight declaration.

'My blood is as good as any, and better than many. Forgive my frankness, as one cannot help but desiring thee. It has been such a long time since I had intimacy with one of us.'

'So flattering,' she mocked, and then looked around, at the bedroom and the canopy bed besides them. 'It seems to me thou hadst that intention since the very beginning, bringing me to this room to have our conversation.' She quickly stood and walked to the bed; when she turned around, Tosha was already besides her. He didn't smile anymore, and there was deep longing in his eyes.

'I give my word to thee, I will make thee feel sated,' he whispered at her ear, his nose as close to her skin as possible to breath her scent. She moved away, sitting on the bed, and dropped her cloak. She was wearing a dark blue silk dress, and a ribbon at her neck decorated with a flower of the same material.

'Remove thy clothes,' she ordered, calmly.

Tosha opened his mouth to make a comment; because he understood he was going to push his luck too much, he thought better and simply obeyed, dropping his clothes to the floor. He untied the ribbon around his hair and let it spread over his shoulders, like a bronze curtain of silky waves; it shone in the light. His hairless skin shone as well, like porcelain with faint ocher-coloured shades, smoothly and firmly covering the appealing relief of his muscles. On the naked area of his groin, under his light golden pubic hair, his member rested like carved into stone.

He made a motion to approach her, but she stopped him with a gesture of her hand and kept observing him. Tosha, self-assured, allowed her to do so; he didn't move either when she leaned on the bed to have a better view of his back, crowned in gold, and his round buttocks with gentle hollows at both sides. Agile as a cat he jumped on the bed, astride her; his legs trapping her thighs, covered by several layers of fabric; his hands at both sides of her pale face.

'Will my luck be blessed with the pleasure of contemplating what is hidden under those closely-woven clothes?' he asked, staring at her. His eyes had a new golden sparkle.

The lady stared back with an inscrutable expression; she suddenly slid herself between his legs, spreading a dark cascade of black hair behind. Tosha felt a piercing pain that made him grit his teeth when she sank hers into the inner side of his penis. But when she started to suck the thick red liquid, pain turned into delight; the strength in his arms abandoned him and they bent, making him bury his face into the brocade bedspread.

'Ah...! Yes... Ah...' He opened his mouth wide; his gums seemed to withdraw, emphasising the length of his pointy canines. He had to build as much willpower as possible not to pull her fragrant mane up and force her to lay down at his mercy, to gain access to her white flesh and sink his teeth, and drink to his heart content until his hunger was satisfied. 'Hmmm... Stop...' he panted. 'I beg of thee...'

She froze. It took her a second to make Tosha lie on his back, her legs now trapping his, his arms immobilised at both sides of his head.

'Thirsty?' she asked, with grave expression. 'Then come and drink to thy fill, if thou art able.'

The vampire smiled with resignation, almost apologetically.

'I do not think it will be worth to try...'

'Why? Trustest thou not thy own abilities?' He gesticulated showing indifference. 'Do not pretend: thou knowest who I am. I can see my name in thy mind.'

'I admit the Cardinal added that detail... And I admit I had heard about thee...'

'And what heardest thou?' She held him even more firmly, enough to hurt him. She noticed her prey's flesh slightly giving way under her hands, adapting to pressure.

'Enough to wish to seduce thee... All right: to wait for thee to condescend to seduce me... and show me thy true face.'

'Is this one not enough, pray?'

'I confess, though as beautifully radiant as thou art now, that my tastes have always been oriented differently...'

'The arrogance.'

She bit his neck and drank of him once again. Then she disappeared in a flash, leaving a weaken and naked Tosha over the messy bed. He sat up and started to get dressed, his wounds quickly closing. Damnation, I must say this did not work as I expected, he thought. And to make things worse, I have to go hunting again...

The Palladinis were holding a magnificent party to celebrate his newly built Palazzo at Grand Canal. Hundreds of lights spread across the windows shimmered on the shadowy waters, like fireflies circling the silhouette of the crescent moon. Nobility and wealthy merchants rubbed shoulders in the opulent ballrooms, and among them, the true masters of Venice, the Giovannis. The place was amongst the safest of the city: human and supernatural watchers took good care in controlling the access; the owner himself, Giuseppe Palladini, was a faithful vassal of the mighty vampire family, and his life depended on it. A sight of his round figure has been already seen, in his love meeting with his inamorata for four years, the exquisite Venanzia Campello, the lady with shiny black curls. And since he had to act cautiously in front of his lawfully wedded wife, but felt for Venanzia blind passion and trust, Giuseppe always allowed her into his dwelling, secretly but unreservedly.

That night was no exception; the master of the house managed to shave a couple of minutes off his duties as host and went to welcome, with kisses and hugs, the beautiful young woman who was the owner of his appetites; with promises of further attentions he left her in the bedroom and ran to attend his obligations.

Signore Palladini was shrewd, had a good memory for faces and good knowledge of people; it was such a paradox he never realised his lover Venanzia, whom he knew for years, and the woman he left in the bedroom were not the same person and hadn't been for months. Some minutes after he left, the chamber where she was supposed to wait was empty.

Echoes of the party reached the gallery. Two armed guards, each of them leading a mastiff, were waiting for their masters to appear. At the sound of footsteps, they walked to the other side of the corridor, left the dogs behind the door and went back to their position. Palladini appeared, all bows towards a small and fragile figure accompanying him: Silvanio Giovanni. He was small indeed, yet not fragile at all; he had been a servant by blood for his family during more than five decades, and was generally inaccessible because of his extreme discretion and his usual cohort of guards. Palladini and him started to deal with their business while the guards stood away from them, near one of the statues displayed along the gallery.

Regretfully for them, they didn't pay special attention to the statue. It was a wonderful life-size work in white marble; it represented a young male at the peak of his physical beauty, posing like Michelangelo's David, with long floating hair sculpted along his back. If they had had a moderate interest in art, they would have noticed it, and maybe observe how it started to move in silence; his marble hair turned black, along with his eyebrows; long ebony eyelashes sprang from his eyes, on which pale irides and small pupils appeared. Possibly they would have perceived how the ends of his arms stopped being hands and turned into sharp bone daggers, and stretched to reach their napes... And how they were plunged into them all the way to their throats, so that they could only emit a muffled gurgling before they died and had their bodies gently laid on the floor.

The following scene took place in fast motion. First, the white figure jumped down his pedestal and ran to Giuseppe Palladini's back as fast as lightning; one of his appendixes, now in the shape of a sharp wide blade, chopped the fat human's head, which started to fall to the ground. Before this trajectory was completed, Silvanio Giovanni had already reached the door behind which the mastiffs were awaiting, and had reached to open it; the pale figure, leaving a trail of blood behind, reached Giovanni's back, still in time to curse his luck: he never counted on having to deal with dogs, and they would start barking in no time.

His piercing appendix went through the little man, right through his heart; Palladini's head fell on the ground and bounced.

And the dogs didn't bark.

It just took the creature some seconds to search Giovanni's corpse and seize a big pendant from his neck, before running away through the opposite side of the corridor. He stopped in front of the first window he found and his arms started to stretch and become thinner... And a familiar voice in his head seemed to yell: No! Marksmen on the roof! Jump!

After a second of vacillation, the figure simply jumped into the Canal, instead of trying the initially planned flying escape; there was some splashing, and then silence.

Shortly after, two people gathered at one of the small islands that were part of the city. They stopped in front of the ruins of a building; there was at least one wing standing, and hidden in the shadows, a sealed metal door. One of the persons handed an item to the other one: something hanging down a chain... The receiver cast a ritual in a soft voice that allowed him, along with the pendant, to cross the door and disappear inside. Time seemed to go by very slowly before he went out again; once he did, they both walked back to the water and jumped into a rowing boat where a third person was waiting. At a good pace, they rowed towards the mainland.

'Far be it from me to sound pretentious, but the situation could have been extremely different if I had not given thee a hand, back there at the Palazzo...'

Tosha's voice oozed delight and a certain irony as he addressed his companion, a tall hooded figure, once they reached the haven that would protect them from dawn.

'The dogs. I was not counting on them,' answered the hooded one. To the Russian vampire's satisfaction, his voice sounded very different from the first time he had heard it... Definitely, not a female one.

'I was. I observed the guards holding the dogs outside the house.'

'But they did not bark.'

'No; I took good care of it. Contrary to thee, it seems, I possess certain modest abilities with animals. But I must congratulate thee,' he hastened to add, with a smile, 'since everything worked to perfection; inaccessible Silvanio Giovanni ceased to be, and his secret is into our brother's hands, and soon to be into his Eminence's ones. I wonder what there was behind that door... ' As his interlocutor didn't answer, Tosha simulated a sigh. 'Ah! I guess it is not of our concern. I just pray that we got far away enough from the Giovannis, until next dusk.' Tosha stared at his companion from the corner of his eye. 'And now, how about thou, as a token of thy gratitude...?'

'I wish I could tidy myself up,' he interrupted. 'I still keep the smell of the foetid Canal waters.'

The Russian pointed at the adjoining room, and the black cloaked man walked there. Tosha waited as much as he could, listening to the splashing sounds. Once he was overcome by curiosity, he grabbed a candle, walked to the threshold and peeked from there. He saw the big metal vat in which a marmoreal figure with wet long hair, dark like a crow's wing, was sitting; he made out the vampire' long arms and legs, emerging from the shallow layer of water...

Suddenly, the latter stood in all his length of one hundred and ninety-five centimetres, and Tosha got enraptured, for the first time, in the contemplation of Phidias' build, along which pearls of water slid as if it was made of polished stone. His eyes met his smooth naked pubis; then set on the disquieting gaze of those supernatural eyes, his golden ones displaying awe and admiration.

'By Cain,' he whispered with reverence, once he recovered his voice, 'ye are beautiful.'

Phidias couldn't help but smile: it was a prodigy that such a verbose creature had been rendered speechless. It was maybe that soft curve of his pale lips what encouraged Tosha to hesitantly reach for him and very gently stroke his white-skinned cheeks, or dare to slide a finger along his half-closed eyes to experience the brush of his silky dark eyelashes. Marble and silk, the blond vampire thought.

From the silk of his dark hair he went to the elastic stiffness of his slightly parted lips, that showed his even teeth, no trace of a sign revealing his predator status. It was unusual: all the vampires Tosha ever met (including their lineage, natural shape-shifters, unless they wanted to disguise as humans) displayed their fangs without demur. Most of them weren't able to hide them even if they wanted, and the rest were simply proud of them. But this one standing in front of him hadn't showed them yet. He unconsciously extended his neck and placed his pink lips on his companion's ones; they were both dry and rigid, and the Russian nibbled at his own tongue to make the caress moist and warm, bathed with his blood. He perceived, with delectation, Phidias' tongue making its way into his mouth, tasting him, and then sliding its tip under one of his fangs, as in the search of that thing he was lacking of at the moment. A bold Tosha dared to press until he pierced it; no resistance was found, and from the wound dense and delicious blood poured, mixing with his. He tried it for the first time, closing his eyes and absorbing himself in the pleasure.

Somehow Tosha's gentleness, in contrast with his manners and wishes, his sensual bite, the brushing of his fingers, barely touching him... spurred Phidias' own desires. His strong and skilled hands quickly undressed his companion, while he drank of him, ecstatic; making him lay on the stone floor, without releasing his mouth, he ran his hands over his naked skin, tracing his outlines with his fingertips, stopping at every hollow: between his collarbones, under his armpits, around his navel, at both sides of his perineum... as though wanting to memorise every detail and every texture.

Phidias interrupted the kiss, much to Tosha's displeasure; stroking his bronze hair, he forced him to tilt his head back so that he could reach the soft skin of his neck, right over his Adam's apple. His index fingernail turned into a claw that he used to pierce his flesh, his tongue making haste to meet the cut and savour it until the last drop. He intensely sucked; Tosha trembled, bliss eclipsing ache, and kept the dark-haired head against his wound, his fingers entangled in his soft locks.

After a while he reluctantly moved away, licking his lips. He stared at his companion; through his half-open eyes, faint irides spilled their silver on golden honey-coloured pupils. Wherever thou desire, he whispered right to Tosha's mind, as much as thou desire.

The Russian vampire didn't need further invitation: he jumped like a spring, making Phidias roll under him, this time. Keeping eye contact, he bit his tongue a second time, voraciously, and let the blood fill his mouth before swallowing it with great relish. Later, as his partner before, he shaped his finger into a claw; but instead of using it on the pale alabaster body, he dug it into the left side of his own neck, as he leaned and bit Phidias's neck in the same spot: his long teeth sinking, with a cracking, into the hard yet flexible flesh, engulfing a mouthful of hot liquid, drinking and drinking, while the other vampire did the same to him. It is difficult, to explain the sensation in human terms: the feeling of being firmly pulled as you also pull; being violently and deeply penetrated whilst you are already inside someone, your lust at its highest peak; except that the delight of blood is more intense than all that, because it makes your senses numb in such a way that ecstasy disconnects you from your surroundings and there is nothing left but hot, red life pumping, in and out, and the hammering of a huge heart into your ears.

Dawn was breaking; both vampires unwillingly separated from each other and crawled into the chests where they would lay during the day, their naked bodies resting on a handful of soil.

 

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