Undying Vengeance (4 page)

D
onovan paced back
and forth across the living room floor. Watching Armani through the eyes of his faithful black hawk, he felt the pain as if it were his own. He had once been a man and knew what it was like to feel the anguish and pain of losing someone you loved more than life itself and to have them taken from you without even a goodbye. It crushed your soul, sucking the will to live out of your body like a vacuum.

Donovan’s shackles were loosened by his savior and father, Victor who saved him from eternal damnation. He stopped pacing, remembering their first meeting and shuddered.

The experience was horrifying when Victor came to him in his darkest despair. Victor’s appearance was like that of a raven with his jet black hair, black eyes, pointy sharp nose to his long black cape which danced around him like the wings of a bird.

“Who the hell are you?” Donovan asked.

Victor studied him with unblinking eyes. “I am Victor, Master of the Dark Ones. I’m here to rescue you from your anguish and pain.” He walked a circle around Donovan daring him to say no or look away. “Trust me and do as I say. You will not avenge the ones who killed your loved one as a human. I know this because I have witnessed this group of powerful people. You will avenge your lovers death only to have them kill you soon after.”

Donovan shook his head bewildered. Was Victor reading his mind? Questions he had for Victor were being answered before the words had a chance to leave his mouth.

Victor poked Donovan with his long bony finger. “And you were going to take the easy way out and kill yourself. You coward! These men who hurt you would get away with murder and without justice being served.” A mocking smile played on his lips. “What then?”

Donovan shook with fear. Goosebumps prickled over his body. Licking his lips he said, “I honestly don’t know. Why are you here?” He asked feeling like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“Don’t be scared, Donovan. I’m here to help you, to offer you a better life, a way to make this group of people pay for what they did to you and your soul.” He seethed and smiled, fangs glistening.

Donovan winced. Was it his imagination? Did Victor have fangs or were the drugs and alcohol he consumed making him hallucinate?

“I have been watching you for a long time. Your torment and pain has reached me and I want to help. Also, yes, I am a vampire. A good one, I might add. I’m in the business of righting the wrongs done to people.” Victor bared his fangs again. “And I’m wonderful at reading people’s minds as you have already figured out.”

“Please, just leave me alone,” Donovan begged. “I don’t need your help.”

Victor laughed. “It seems you do. Do I need to remind you that you were about to hang yourself until I showed up?”

“Yes, but so what? It’s not your business. Be gone, I command you.” Donovan said and did the Hail Mary.

Loud laughter erupted from Victor. “Please, don’t try to entertain me. You have no choice in this matter. You are going to cross over.”

Donovan tried to escape. He leapt toward the door, only to be blocked by Victor. “Sit down and prepare yourself.” Victor said and shoved him into a chair.

The rest was history. Donovan had become an immortal and his revenge was sweet. The people who killed his beloved and caused him needless pain were forever erased from earth. He was thankful for Victor and always would be. Victor saved him from himself and his plan for suicide, a death that would have made the enemies victorious.

Lost in thoughts Donovan jumped when he heard a tap on the window followed by a loud shriek. Donovan craned his neck and saw the hawk perched on the window ledge. Without touching the floor, he glided across the room and opened the window. The jet black hawk lowered its head in submission and Donovan rubbed the hawk’s head and body.

“You have been a wonderful seeing eye for me. Our work is not complete and you will continue to watch over Armani during the day while I slumber as I feel he needs more time to heal.” He said and handed the hawk a cracker. Its razor sharp beak gently took it from Donovan’s hand. The hawk’s eyes were on the aquarium a few feet away filled with mice scurrying to and fro. “You will get a few of those, don’t worry, my friend.” Donovan draped the long black cape over his shoulders, his stomach telling him it was time to drink some precious life blood but first his hawk needed its reward. He drifted to the aquarium, the hawk following. “Here you are,” he said placing a few mice on the wood floor of his rundown house. The hawk shrieked and dove after the mice.

Donovan exited the house and whistled a tune enjoying the darkness and the light of the half—moon wondering where he would meet his next victim. A few minutes later he heard the hawk, his faithful companion fly overhead. Donovan joined him as they soared high into the sky, eyeing the busy city streets.

Donovan thought about Armani and felt his pain. In time he would show himself to Armani and convince him to join The Dark Ones and forever be immortal and free from his human pain.

T
he birds chirped
outside and the sun shone through the bedroom window onto Armani’s face making it feel like a piece of meat on the grill. He got up and looked at his yard, once so wonderful now held no beauty to him. Isolation had been his answer to life’s problems since arriving home from the hospital. Armani continued to stay behind closed doors, occasionally talking to Rex and his agent on the phone. The full time staff he employed had been told not to show up for work until notified differently. Armani was a sensible man and continued to send them their weekly wage through the mail. It wasn’t their fault his life was hell and they shouldn’t have to pay for his problems and depression. His heart was numb and cold, but compassion for others still existed.

He sat on the wood chair he had made for Simone and thought about the last person he saw. The mailman had come to the door with a delivery for him. Assuming it was Rex, he answered the door without his mask on. The shocked look on the mailman’s face plagued him. The left side of his face was charred and slightly deformed his left eye a little lower than the right due to scarring, the eyebrow gone forever, and his hairline was back three inches from his forehead. Armani rarely if ever looked in a mirror. He prayed his face would return to normal but the doctor gave him little hope.

What was there to hope for anymore? His only hope was avenging the death of Simone, seeing the men who destroyed him served their justice. His depression made him uninterested in his band with all the tours, schedules, screaming fans cheering for him and his band, Faded Cross. Armani smirked. How symbolic the name, Faded Cross was now of his life; a fading dream, a fading life that felt like death on a cross.

Armani walked to his music room, sat at the piano and played numerous songs he had written. The room was a beautiful auburn color, the floor made of black and white checkered marble. Pictures in black and white hung on the walls. Instruments of all kinds filled the room; guitars, drums, bells and numerous instruments most people would be shocked to see in a rock musician’s home. He loved to play the cello, harp, and violin, so he had a few of each in the room. The most beautiful instrument was the shiny black grand piano in the center of the room. Armani walked to the piano, placed his hands on top of it and looked up at the black marble ceiling and drummed a tune with his fingers. ‘My dearest Simone, I shall play a few songs for you and hope that you hear them in Heaven.’ He prayed.

He walked to the chest filled with his sheet music, picked up a few of Simone’s favorites he had written for her. That seemed so long ago, but it was only a short time. Simone wasn’t musically gifted, but she loved to sit next to Armani when he’d play the piano and they would sing together for hours. Sometimes when she tried to hit a high note, they would both laugh hysterically at her efforts. Armani loved that both of them had the ability to laugh at themselves.

Armani found the songs he wanted to play. Being a ritualistic man by nature, he dimmed the lights as he had done so often when he would serenade Simone. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter and lit two red candles sitting atop the piano. Once lit, he held the lighter to his eyes and stared at the flickering flame. The left side of his face grew warmer. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed the lighter and threw it against the wall shattering it into pieces. “That’s what those evil men have done to my heart. They will pay,” he seethed.

Armani sat at the piano and placed the sheets of music in front of him. The first song was a melody he wrote for Simone titled, ‘My Heart Beats for You.’ His fingers moved gracefully along the keyboard, his voice seductive and edgy. Closing his eyes Armani lifted his head to the Heavens seeing visions of Simone dancing. He played this song three more times before stopping to take a breath. He played the next two songs, his heart grieving for her like a mother’s for a deceased child. He knew the pain would be with him forever. The last song ‘One Look,’ he played four times as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Armani was emotionally spent. Lifting himself off the piano bench he caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors that lined the walls. He shuddered and cursed at himself. ‘So, this is my curse,’ he thought. ‘It’s what I deserve for destroying Simone.’ The thought that if she hadn’t met him she would still be alive haunted him, the guilt, like a cancer ate him up inside.

He walked up to the mirror and stared at himself. “What a horrible looking monster you’ve become,” Armani said. He turned and focused on the unscarred right side of his face. Armani reasoned that the tormentor’s left one side untouched sending him a message every time he looked in the mirror. The message was clear to him now for the first time. They had taken away Simone, his other half, just as they had taken away half his face. He could never look at himself without the physical and emotional wounds being reopened. Forever the scars will remain. ‘Indeed the ones responsible will suffer for this.’ He thought and slammed the music room door shut.

Dazed, he walked to the top of the stairs and stopped when he heard pacing footsteps like a caged zoo animal. A cold chill blew through the hallway making it feel like the temperature dropped fifteen degrees. The window was closed, so why did he feel cold? He wrapped his arms around himself and continued to listen. The pacing ceased. ‘Maybe it was psychosis plaguing him again.’ He thought with a shrug.

He stopped, goose bumps rose on his neck. Glass shattered. He assumed he must’ve left a window open and the breeze knocked over a glass. It was impossible for anyone to break in or step foot on his property. His home was surrounded by a wrought iron gate, surveillance cameras, alarm systems, and two large Rottweiler’s imported from Germany and trained as guard dogs and were on alert for intruders. The dogs wouldn’t hesitate to attack if someone dare trespass.

Straining his neck he listened. Silence answered him from the main floor. The dogs barked like they had gone mad. He jogged to the nearest bedroom and looked out the window. Both Rottweiler’s paced back and forth barking, their eyes fixed on the house. He heard enough. Armani jerked the window open and hollered at the dogs to shut up and go to their kennels. They peered at him and did as told with great reluctance.

Armani was too hungry to let fear keep him caged upstairs. Whatever he had heard was gone now. Cold, empty silence was the only visitor in his house. He walked down the white spiral staircase lined with red carpet holding onto the railing. A sense of fear kept him on alert. The cold chill he had felt earlier was gone. He dismissed the chills with the possibility of having a fever. The doctor had told him that wouldn’t be uncommon as he may get infections periodically. “It’s nothing to worry about.” The doctor had said. “It’s just normal fluctuations of your body’s temperature as it fights minor infection.” Armani planned to call the doctor later and get a prescription for insomnia and psychosis. Lack of sleep was probably the cause of psychosis. Terrible nightmares plagued him every night. He woke up sweating several times a night and it was becoming routine. One he didn’t welcome. His dreams were dark and horrifying. In them, he would see Simone being tortured, raped, and killed in the most graphic way as he stood by not able to help her. Always in these nightmares, a man appeared to offer him help and promised him an eternity of living in peace and freedom from pain. But, he wasn’t fully man. His face resembled a hawk’s with black eyes, long brown hair, stone cold blue eyes, pointed nose, long sharp nails and always dressed in black from head to toe. Armani wished the man existed, but it was just a dream, a recurring nightmare he hoped would end soon.

When he reached the last step Armani looked to the left and right. His home was extraordinary. The room to the left was the large living room furnished with two large black leather couches, a large black chair, and a 72inch flat screen TV. Two dining rooms were in each corner on the main floor, a large library, a sitting room, a porch which overlooked the landscape, and a kitchen the size of an apartment.

He saw nothing out of the ordinary and walked into the kitchen and the lights automatically turned on. He gazed at the front door as he passed. It was still locked. Armani slapped the right side of his face hard. He had to get a grip on reality. When he looked around the kitchen, his heart lurched. Simone had decorated the kitchen. It hurt to look at the walls of mahogany red, the floor consisted of black and white checker tiles and every appliance was tuxedo black.

Disappointment clouded his face when he opened the refrigerator and saw he had very little food left that wasn’t already expired. He walked to the cupboard, pulled out a loaf of bread and settled for a peanut butter sandwich. He ate it in seconds but hunger still pained him. He opened the refrigerator again and pulled out a beer. The top popped with a welcoming sound. He guzzled down one and drank two more.

He walked to the window and stared at the yard covered with a blanket of white snow that sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the sunlit. Memories from the previous winter flooded his mind. He smiled remembering when Simone and he made snow angels and a snowman laughing like two giddy children. There was never a dull moment with her. He frowned and a tear slid down his cheek.

Armani retreated back to the refrigerator and pulled out the remaining nine beers and walked into the living room. He set the beers on the coffee table next to the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels, he finally found back to back episodes of his favorite show ‘Law and Order’. Hopefully, this and the beer would keep his mind distracted for a while. It helped until a commercial break. A funeral director was talking about how they can help you through the grieving process while making arrangements as heart and compassion are the focus of their business, the funeral director said with a somber look on his face. Armani rolled his eyes and cracked open another beer. The balding man talked about how his funeral home also helps pick out tombstones, professionally engraved by them.

Armani felt like the funeral director stabbed him through the heart. What kind of man was he? He hadn’t been to Simone’s grave. Guilt plagued his soul. His beautiful Simone was buried without a gravestone, he was sure. His plans for tomorrow were to get out of the house for the first time in weeks and visit Simone. The commercial came to an end and Armani wrote down the phone number.

Simone was his angel. His world had become a dark, cold, and lonely place since her death. He would visit the funeral home and pay the funeral director to engrave ‘My Angel in the Night’ on a tombstone of his choice.

Armani lay down and pulled a blanket over himself. Too dizzy to even use the bathroom he closed his eyes hoping for a long peaceful sleep.