find when they returned to the winery?
The sun was high in the sky when they reached the cellar.
"Stay here," Edward said.
Marisa nodded. She had no desire to see what, if anything, was left in the cellar.
Clasping his cross in both hands, Edward descended the narrow wooden stairs. The smell of blood filled his nostrils. He could see dark patches of it splattered across the walls and on the hard-packed earthen floor. It took only a glance to see that the cellar was empty.
"Edward?"
He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The day seemed incredibly bright and beautiful and he took a deep breath, glad to be alive. "There's no one down there."
She stared at him, afraid to ask what it might mean. "What do we do now?"
Ramsey judged the position of the sun, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Grigori's house is in that direction. There must be a town nearby."
"How far is it?" Marisa asked.
"His house? I'm not sure. I think Chiavari said it was about three miles from Pietro's." Edward grimaced as he contemplated the walk. "I should have spent more time working out."
"Come on, you wimp. Three miles is a piece of cake." The thought of food made her stomach growl. "Wish I had a piece of cake," she muttered, although it seemed wrong to feel hungry at a time like this.
"Yeah, me too." Ramsey shook his head. "Been a helluva night."
The town was located about a half mile from Pietro's. It was early and there were only a few people out and about. The people they passed regarded them with blatant curiosity. Marisa could hardly blame them. Their clothing alone would have made the people stare. Her dress was far too short for the mode of the day; worse, it was torn and stained with blood. Her hair was a mess; her face was bruised. Ramsey looked more presentable. His gray slacks were dirty, but his shirt and coat were remarkably clean, considering all they had been through.
It occurred to her, abruptly, that whatever money they had would not be accepted or recognized.
They passed a small bakery and her stomach growled loudly as the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted through the air.
"Geez, I'd kill for a cup of that coffee," Ramsey muttered.
"Perhaps we could offer them something in exchange for breakfast," Marisa suggested.
"Yeah? Like what?"
"I don't know. My earrings, maybe?"
"It's worth a try."
"Let's just hope they speak English."
"I speak a little Italian," Ramsey said. "Picked it up in my travels."
Marisa combed her fingers through her hair and put on her heels. "How do I look?"
Ramsey grinned at her. "You want the truth, or a polite lie?"
"That bad, huh?"
"Well... here, put my coat on. It'll cover some of the blood on your dress."
Marisa slipped into his coat, and then they walked into the bakery.
It took a while, but eventually Ramsey managed to explain to the proprietor that they wanted to exchange Marisa's earrings for something to eat.
The man called his wife, who looked the jewelry over, and then nodded.
Marisa and Ramsey sat down at one of the tables. Marisa glanced around. It was a small place, a sort of combination bakery and cafe. There were no other customers.
A short time later, the proprietor's wife emerged from the kitchen bearing two cups of coffee and a plate of pastries. Marisa noted the woman was wearing her new earrings.
"What are we going to do when we leave here?" Marisa asked.
"Go back to the Chiavaris' and wait for them, I guess," Ramsey replied. "You got any better ideas?"
"Not really." She sipped the coffee. It was hot and bitter. She couldn't remember when she'd ever had any that tasted better.
"I watched him bring her over," Ramsey said.
"What?"
"Antoinette. I watched Chiavari bring her across."
"You mean you saw him make her a vampire?"
Ramsey nodded. "It was - " He shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. It was awful, and yet - " He ran his fingertips over his cross. "It was kind of... I don't know... mystical."
"How did he do it? Is it like in the books?"
"Yeah, pretty much. He drank her blood until she was at the point of death, and then he slit his wrist with his teeth and she drank his blood."
Ramsey looked at Marisa, his expression troubled. "I felt like I'd just watched someone being reborn, but that's not right, is it? She's damned now."
"Is she?"
"You know she is! They both are. It's a