pray for your success always.”
There were always layers with this man and I did not like his tone.
So I grabbed him forcefully by the neck and pulled him to me, my spit flying in his face. “If you have something to say to me Father, I recommend you speak plainly.”
“I only wish,” his eyes were wide, showing fear for the first time since my arrival, “to keep you safe.”
“What do you mean?” I growled, my voice menacing, even as I squeezed tighter, his face growing pale and red at the same time.
“This land is cursed,” he choked on his words, “Agosto’s power waned, and every man was at his neck. They mean to crucify any who dare interfere. There is no one you can trust.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Not even you, Father?”
He ignored my question and continued on, “You would be crazed to take on his businesses.”
“I have no intention of taking on his businesses.” I released my hold on him and he stumbled backwards, gasping in a breath.
He put his hand to his neck, rubbing it, his breath still raspy. “You are wise then.”
I shot him a dirty look. “No one who knows me would consider me wise. For I do intend to find his killer.”
The priest was silent for a moment, considering my words. “I’ve heard the rumors that have drifted from across the ocean. The things you’ve done, the way you’ve done them. Maybe you aren’t as wise as I thought after all.” He looked up at me, fear and caution in his gaze, his heart beating like a bird caught in a small cage.
Done with the conversation, I turned my back on him and walked towards the grave as the darkness settled in my bones, comforting me. The priest stumbled away and, with a quick glance at the gravediggers who scrambled at my approach, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.
Biting my wrist, I held it over the hole in the ground, letting my blood drip onto the casket. “With the blood of my fathers, I swear to you, Agosto Romano that I will discover your killer and avenge your death.” Letting go of the grief that I’d been holding back, I allowed it to flow through my body and into my words, sealing the promise.
My grief poured through the cemetery in waves and the sound of a flock of flustered crows in flight caught my attention. I turned. It was Elena, the veiled woman from earlier, and my ex-wife. I quickly turned my face, hiding my surprise that she’d been watching me. She’d been silent as the grave itself.
With determined steps I strode away, motioning for the gravediggers to begin.
2
Detrand
Hours later, I lounged in a chaise in the greeting room of the great Gothic manor that Agosto had commissioned all those years ago, watching all and yet saying nothing.
The night was beginning to turn, and many of the weaker strigoi had returned to their graves, unable to stay awake when the sun woke. Most of the living had long left, their instincts warning them of their own need for survival, and only the older strigoi delayed leaving the wake. Glasses with the liquid of the damned cluttered every counter, filled by the living whose instincts were feeble or by those already in the service of the strigoi.
Not for the first time tonight, my eyes caught the woman across the room from me. The same woman from the church with the blonde hair and pale, milky skin. My intoxicated eyes, filled with lust for her, took in the curves of her body and the way she caressed the shoulder of the gentleman next to her. She glanced towards me and lowered her eyes, looking up through her long lashes. I raised my eyebrow but did not invite her to me.
Instead, I focused my attention on the pock-marked man stumbling towards me, drunk with too much blood.
The idiot.
I stood and grabbed him, startling him. He stiffened, eyeing me carefully, then a grin spread across his face and his dull eyes lit up. Throwing his glass over his shoulder, he fell into my arms.
“Master, you’ve come home.”
“Bronson,” I made a tsking noise, “you just saw me at the grave.”
He laughed. “That I did. But I was so torn up with grief, I couldn’t approach ya.” His slurred speech was barely understandable. “Besides, I hardly recognize ya.”
“I don’t look a day older.” I stood back, holding him at arms length to study him. Bronson was turned