Aris Rising: The Court of Vampires: AN INFINITY DIARIES NOVEL (31 page)

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. Jumping to her feet in disbelief she stiffened, unable to move. She spoke one word and one word only. “DeMarco!”

THE END

AN INFINITY DIARIES SERIES: Book 3

H
is back was stiff and his stride furious as he paced in front of Sarah. “DeMarco. Yes.” He turned to face her, his eyes daring her to look away. “DeMarco. And De Flores.” Menacingly, he stepped closer. His breath was hot, his skin white, all of the golden tones, gone. His wavy black hair 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 and his jeans were tight and well worn. In the dim light of the lanterns, she could see he wore a dark knitted sweater under his black leather jacket. “And, yet another man. One you seem to have forgotten altogether.” He spoke softly in a threatening whisper. “Diego.”

“Diego?”

“Yes. Diego.” Raising his voice until it bounced and echoed against the stone walls. “The gypsy you pledged your undying love. The gypsy whose heart you entranced, whose body and soul you possessed.”

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. Gratefully 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 restrained himself from striking her and, again, 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 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 her motor centers could handle. She was frozen to the spot. Unable to face him, she stared at her shoes. Her addled brain wondered how her captors knew what size she wore. When she was kidnapped by the vampire Queen, she was in bed in London, barefooted.

DeMarco raved on. “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 where 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 get her out of this God-forsaken place. She remained silent in fear that any word from her might drive him over the edge.

“Yes, 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 he gripped her face in between his huge hands, forcing her to look at him. “But I loved you still.” His eyes softened. He pulled her to her feet. Repelled by his sudden urge to hold her, he tossed her down onto the chair once again.

He slowly circled her as he spoke. “I watched the palace. I
followed you to the ship on the day you set sail for Spain. 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. “See this?” He spun on his heel, exposing his nude back to her.

Even in the soft light from the lanterns 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 on, his pale chest a striking contrast to the black leather. “I took a thrashing for you because you said you loved me. The wounds on my back healed, but the wound in my heart stayed 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 found 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 work shed. I took pride in my work and made a decent living.” He stared out the window, possessed for a moment by human memories. His face softened and Sarah could finally see DeMarco, the man she had cared for, in this
vampire King standing before her.

His countenance changed; 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, his voice now a soft whisper. “For three days I suffered the fires of hell. When the pain stopped, I knew that I was the same as they.”

Again, he stooped down before her, his eyes level with her own, pain clearly visible in his 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, I realized if I could get my hands on those books, I might be able to find her. My deep love for her 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 who had been welcomed and lived there still.

“I set sail to 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.” He sneered 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, at last, I managed my way into the most elite circle, those who work on the Infinity Diaries, the books of life and death. 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 author from Illinois. I devised a plan to win you once again.

“I arrived in Chicago where I found you and courted you. I hoped you would feel something when you saw me, remember me. But you did not.”

His eyes radiated something more terrible than hate. She shivered as he whispered, “I became everything you could ever want. DeMarco Brassi deserved your love, but you gave it to another. You turned from me yet again and for that, Sarah Hagan, you will die.”

T
he sound of the door scraping on the stones as it opened sent a shiver of dread through Sarah’s body. The beautiful female vampire still wearing a black business suit, stepped into the room, high heels clicking on the stones as she crossed the floor to stand next to the King. Even in her fear Sarah marveled at the dark beauty of the evil pair.

Mariska stepped closer to their captive as she spoke. “You do not remember me from your past, do you human?”

Her mind cloudy with a thousand disjointed thoughts, Sarah couldn’t remember ever seeing the female vampire before. She shook her head ‘no.’

Now it was the Queen who paced in front of her. Sarah found herself mesmerized by her movement, breathing in rhythm with her tapping steps.

“Long ago in the gypsy camp you thought you bested me. You used your long, fair hair and pale skin to steal my betrothed.” Her black eyes burned a hole through Sarah, a sinister laugh curved Mariska’s crimson lips. “Soon I will begin using my dark powers to steal your mortal life. Slowly. Painfully.” Her last words were softly whispered and even more frightening because of it.

Sarah’s head swam as she did her best to recall some memory of the female vampire who was standing before her. Suddenly, she had a flashback to one of the hypnotic dreams she had had during the time she was doing past-life regressions with her psychotherapist, Bonnie Petrillo. In the dream it was the sixteenth century and a maiden named Elizabeth Wyatt was fighting in the dust with a young gypsy woman. Sarah’s mind began to clear. During her hypnotherapy sessions, Sarah discovered Elizabeth Wyatt had been the name of one of her past life incarnations. Somehow this vampire thought Elizabeth Wyatt had stolen her man in that past life. Then Sarah recalled why the two women were fighting. Elizabeth, in fact, had stolen her opponent’s man. They were battling over Diego and Elizabeth won. She remembered the curse the bruised and defeated gypsy threw on her as she crept away from the midnight fire.

And now, here she stood, Mariska, Queen of the Spanish Coven. Sarah knew it was going to be a long night.

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Three manservants entered the chamber carrying two comfortable chairs and a round, carved wooden table. One built a glowing fire while the other two placed the furniture at a comfortable distance from the blaze. They were followed by a lovely young female vampire carrying two jewel encrusted golden goblets on a matching tray. As she placed them on the table, the gems glistened in the firelight.

Turning from Sarah as if they had forgotten she was there, Mariska and DeMarco moved across the room to sit in the chairs. They raised the goblets to toast one another, then drank; neither paused while there was a drop left. Sarah shuddered thinking what must have been in the goblets. Her captors sat quietly for a moment, staring into the fire. Then, as one, they rose to approach her.

The Queen was the first to speak. “You, human, will die a slow
and tortuous death.” The shadows the firelight cast on Mariska made her face appear to be an eyeless skull. When she spoke, the words came from the mouth of a death’s head. “And then the true carnage begins. We march on the Catacombs. We will slaughter their King and Queen. Our army will eliminate every Immortal citizen.” She spoke as an afterthought. “Ah, yes, and DeMarco and I will personally take care of those who mean the most to you. One by one we will slowly eliminate your loved ones. I want you to ponder that as you wait for your own death. And I assure you, human, we will take the greatest care with your precious love, Aris.” Sarah’s heart raced. She knew she had to escape, to find a way to warn the Immortals.

Mariska drew DeMarco to her side. “We will rule in the Catacombs. We will own the Infinity Diaries. We will know the secret workings of the universe. With the power of that knowledge and our fearlessness, we will rule the human world and feed on them openly like the sheep that they are.” Mariska stared at Sarah for a moment more, then shouted toward the door. “Guard.”

As the soldiers entered the room, DeMarco turned to stare out the window at the star studded sky. Without looking toward Sarah, he lifted his arm to wave her away, condemning her to her chamber to await her death. She heard the muffled tapping of stilettoes on the stone floor as the soldiers took her into the hallway and closed the door behind them.