The Bite of Vengeance Read online

  Oceana, who finally understood, put down her half-empty goblet and snapped her fingers. A man was at her side within seconds, carrying a red, hooded travelling-cloak.

  ‘Of course, my lord. We must save her! I will assist in any way I can. Actually, I do believe the Pope is holding one of his little parties right now. This should make it easier to slip in unnoticed.’

  The Blood Chamber

  Oceana left The Den and signalled for the gondola to take them back to Italy, which arrived within minutes. She and Roconn hopped aboard and were soon on their way back to Italy, where they used unlimited power in the gondolier’s arms to propel the gondola at impressive speed. Roconn wanted the ordeal to be over, to have Maria back. He wanted to have Maria safely back home and in his arms where she belonged. Roconn decided that if they both got through this, then he would end his quest for vengeance. He had learned that there were more important things in life than revenge. Although he undoubtedly still missed his children, he would have Maria, and that was enough for now. At times, Roconn and Maria had formed plans to kidnap a baby and raise it as their own, away from everyone else. But no, he would not take someone else’s child away from them, like his had been taken from him.

  The gondola bumped gently against the side of a bridge. He and Oceana climbed out onto a moonlit path. They kept to the shadows as much as possible when they reached Rome. While walking up, through the impressive entrance to the Vatican, Roconn noticed the obelisk had been repaired.

  It felt like only yesterday Maria had stood beside him, fighting Rosse, and speaking of plans to infiltrate the Vatican and kill the Pope. But that was gone now. His lust for revenge against the Pope had disappeared when he first discovered his wife had been captured.

  Oceana slowed to a walk as they neared the great Vatican. Music could be heard coming from outside and the sound of laughter and conversation filled their ears. Listening hard, Oceana turned to him as they slipped inside the courtyard unnoticed. The courtyard was wonderfully decorated; many tables had been pushed into the courtyard and covered with white linen cloth. The table had many candle holders and silver jugs full of wine, goblets of silver surrounded each doily that had been placed on the cloth. Each cardinal seemed to grasp an identical silver goblet. Banners of red and gold had been hung from any place that could be reached. Cardinals were in abundance here, drinking merrily and talking to one another. Many lanterns had been lit and spread around in such a way that they seemed to light up the night sky.

  ‘The Pope is on the balcony. Kill him if you wish. But, remember, it’s either him, or your wife,’ said Oceana.

  Roconn was now torn between the Pope and Maria.

  ‘Whom do I choose? I have been planning this for centuries.’ Roconn thought.

  On the other hand, he had been with Maria for most of his existence. She was his world. He would save her.

  ‘Where is she?’

  Oceana smiled.

  ‘Right this way, my lord.’

  She led him off to one side, underneath a pillar. Just as Roconn got there, intense pain burned through him, piercing his body in twenty different places. Then, all of a sudden, a different kind of pain tore through his heart. Roconn’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor.

  ‘My lord, what’s wrong?’ Oceana kept repeating with worry.

  After a few seconds the pain started to ebb away, he was feeling Maria’s pain; the transformation must have enhanced their connection. Though Roconn had never experienced this before, he knew almost instinctively this was the cause.

  Roconn lay, shaking, on the floor, breathing in the scent of dirt and tasting it in his mouth. A sadness filled his heart, compelling him to get up and find Maria, though he knew it was too late, she was gone, he could feel it. Every muscle in Roconn’s body told him that going any further was pointless. He ignored them and pushed himself up off the floor. His body seemed to weigh him down as though the weight of the sea was upon him. With every step he took it became harder to carry on. Roconn resisted the urges to stop and pressed forwards. He would at least bury his wife’s body. Though he knew she was gone, a small voice in his head told him not to give up. There was still a chance that she was alive.

  Roconn reached a loose paving stone after what felt like the longest ten steps he had ever taken. The Pope’s party carried on, reflecting the opposite of Roconn’s emotions and he felt he would never be happy again. Roconn wrenched up the paving stone which (given that he had super-strength) required a lot of effort, and slipped down the passageway with Oceana hot on his heels. She was unaware of his feelings and seemed oblivious to the pain he had just endured.

  It was pitch-black down the passageway, but his eyes quickly adjusted, and he could soon see clearly. He was standing next to Oceana in a vast room. Many barrels (which Roconn assumed were full of blood) had been pushed against the walls. Empty barrels lay scattered around, their lids taken off waiting to be filled. A cardinal moaned in the corner, but Roconn didn’t pay attention. He didn’t care anymore. He had no fight left in him, his vampire muscles seemed to reject the idea. Roconn forced himself to walk over to a door at the other end, the only other one in the room. It was thick, made of solid metal, with a rectangular hole in the middle which was probably for viewing. There was no glass in the hole.

  Oceana seemed to understand how Roconn felt at that moment and stood back, giving him some space. For this, he was grateful. He peered in through the glass-free window and into the room beyond. What he saw was worse than he could have imagined. His whole body filled with grief as he looked at the bloodless body of his wife. Her green eyes were dry and lifeless. They were staring, empty. A look of horror was set upon her white face. Her clothes were dirty and stained scarlet. A dozen holes were punched through them and through her body. Roconn watched in horror as the last few drops of blood fell from Maria’s body.

  It was over. She was gone. He had lost everything.

  ‘My lord, I…’ Oceana began.

  She seemed lost for words as she stared into the room. She looked away as her eyes welled up with tears.

  ‘I know,’ Roconn was able to mumble.

  He felt his own eyes fill, tears splashing on to the floor. Oceana put a comforting arm around him, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t want company at the moment. He wanted to go home, by himself, and sit for a hundred years, mourning the death of his wife, his love, the clan-queen. Roconn opened the door. The room had been created so it seemed to hover over the ground, leaving a gap between the floor and the chamber to collect the blood. Underneath it this time, stood a large container. It looked like one of the other barrels to collect blood, but this one was golden and encrusted with gems and jewels. It was filled to the brim with Maria’s blood. Roconn ducked underneath the chamber, secretly hoping it would not somehow collapse on top of him. As Roconn extended his arm to grasp the golden barrel, he noticed that, beside it there was a note, it read:

  This is the blood of the clan-queen. Take it to the place I wait. By now, Roconn will have surely discovered the plot and the fact I am the one who betrayed him and Maria.

  The note was signed with Klomano’s name. So this is why he was after Maria, he thought, for her blood, to make him stronger. ‘I should have killed Klomano when I had the chance.’ He thought angrily.

  He scooped up Maria’s body, tears falling from his eyes, and retreated into the courtyard, not bothering to be discreet. He had no care for anything anymore. Roconn walked on, into the light of the lanterns. The music stopped playing and the cardinals gasped, a few even dropped their drinks. The Pope, chatting quite happily to someone, was obscured behind a large pot-plant, turned to face the courtyard.

  ‘What is all this?’ he screamed to Roconn, pointing a long bony finger in his direction.

  ‘My wife has been murdered, but I will not stop! You shall die! I will come back for you, mark my words, and you will fall.’ Roconn walked towards the exit of the courtyard.

  The Pope looked taken aback and, in truth,
a little frightened. Roconn had had enough. He wanted solitude, to be alone for eternity. He wanted his wife. Oceana followed him out of the courtyard, carrying the vessel containing Maria’s blood.

  An Unexpected Surprise

  Roconn arrived back in Venice some time later. After scooping Maria’s body from the gondola that took him this vast distance, he carried Maria’s body through the hall of The Den. Every vampire knelt as he passed, showing their respects to the death of the clan-queen. He laid her down in a stone coffin that Zaichari had prepared. She would be sent to Roconn’s castle by boat, and then horse and cart. He would sit in the boat and the cart with her. It would be covered in a thick sheet so that he could journey in the daylight. Roconn would soon be leaving Venice and he didn’t know when he would return. But, he did know that Oceana was a trusted vampire in his court, and that if Klomano ever returned, his life would be very brief, Roconn was sure of this.

  ‘Thank you, my lord. It’s been a pleasure to have you here. I’m truly sorry for the loss of Maria.’ Zaichari spoke with deep sincerity, Roconn appreciated the sympathy greatly.

  Roconn was ready to leave. The coffin was stowed securely in place on the boat. He bade goodbye to the Venetian clan and, a few minutes later, sat next to Maria’s coffin. He took the long route home so that he could ponder on her death. Roconn looked down. Knowing he could trust him, Roconn had the barrel of blood sent to his castle by Zaichari. Whatever happened, he could not let her blood fall into the wrong hands; her blood was more potent than that of any other vampire excluding himself.

  ‘Maria,’ Roconn whispered to the coffin as the captain of the boat set off. ‘My love, I failed to protect you. I tried so very hard. I should not have let you go alone. I should have made sure you were safe.’

  Roconn dug his hands into his pocket and felt something cold at the bottom. He withdrew the item, it was Maria’s ring. He placed it carefully on the finger of his left hand and whispered, ‘I love you.’

  The journey home seemed to take forever, but eventually they docked in Italy, the moon shining bright. Here the carriage was waiting for Roconn, who spared no time in carrying the coffin into the carriage and taking a seat. Here, after the carriage pulled off with a jerk, Roconn wondered how things back in his Italian home had been whilst he was gone, so much seemed to have changed since his departure. The carriage stopped outside the entrance of Castle Blackmoor onto the gravelled path, a few hours later. The horse snorted loudly as he climbed out, stones crunching beneath his feet. The moon was illuminating the castle and its many high turrets. A few of them had collapsed due to the age of the castle but it was mostly intact. It was an enormous size, stretching back into the forest that seemed to swallow it. As Roconn glanced around, he lifted the stone coffin to the ground as Reyjak appeared beside him. He did not speak but stood there solemnly, taking in the sight of the coffin. It was apparent Oceana had sent word to the clans of Italy, informing them of the clan-queen’s death. Roconn spared no time in burying his wife, dawn would be visible over the horizon soon. After digging out a hole in the ground, he gently lowered the coffin into the freshly-dug pit. He stared for a moment, taking in the ordeal before covering her with soil and smoothing it over. A headstone had already been fashioned from a slab of granite by Reyjak, a skill Roconn did not know Reyjak possessed. The headstone read: Here lies Maria Romano, clan-queen of vampires, and loving wife. May you never be forgotten.

  Roconn started to weep as he collapsed to his knees, shaking with anger and pain. This was it, his worst fears had come true, he had lost everyone, he was alone, doomed to stay on the earth for eternity without the comfort of his wife or children. The pain worsened as he thought of his children too. Roconn stayed in his rigid position as every member of the clan paid their respects. Zaichari had Reyjak keep aside a note addressed for Roconn along with the letter informing them all of Maria’s demise. The note was written in elegant writing, and signed by Zaichari:

  To the esteemed clan-king, I have sent out spies, on Oceana’s orders, to search for Klomano, I hope we can capture him soon. I am truly at a loss for words regarding the passing of Maria, it must have been very traumatic for you, my commiserations and sympathy. I hope to visit soon. My deepest respect.

  Roconn had this note tucked away inside his robes, he appreciated it. As the sky started to lighten, Roconn forced his legs that seem to be weighted with led, to carry him to his chamber, carrying the golden barre where no one could see. He pulled a candlestick which stood beside the fireplace. A loud scraping noise filled his room. Beside the fireplace, in the alcove, two large, grey, concrete slabs pulled apart, revealing a small hidden shelf. Roconn placed the container on the shelf and closed the secret cupboard again. Here it would be left, forever, the powerful blood of one of the first vampires, it’s potency keeping it from drying up. It would be protected by her husband who would now lead the vampires alone.

  Roconn did not feed for weeks on end. He could not, and would not, leave his wife’s side, spending whole nights outside, kneeling by her grave. It wasn’t until he was becoming blood-crazed that Roconn decided to feed, his eyes were crazy and darted to the smallest of movements. His ears pricked at the tiniest of sounds. He could not concentrate; he often found his mind wandering and resting on his memories with Maria. The clan members had learnt not to disrupt this state he was in unless it was strictly important; he would often snap at them and order them away. He would not go out unless strictly necessary. He only decided to feed when Reyjak came up to one night, beside the grave.

  ‘Sire,’ he spoke softly

  ‘What, Reyjak? Is it important you know full well not bothe-’ Reyjak cut him off.

  ‘Sire, I think you need to feed. You’re never with us, my lord. You have missed council sessions; some of the others are doubting your leading abilities, sire. They say you are not in full control of yourself anymore. I personally think you should prove them wrong, my lord. For all of us, we need you.’ Reyjak did not wait for a response. He was gone without a sound not a split second later.

  Roconn pondered his words. Reyjak was right; he should not keep himself from feeding, his clan depended on him, he was still their leader. The night was young and so Roconn slowly rose from a bench that he had ordered to be put outside for the night times Roconn would spend by his wife’s side. Roconn sped into the city within minutes, and was soon wandering the empty streets in the moonlight. His ears pricked and his eyes darted; he constantly found himself searching frantically for the source of sounds.

  Roconn headed over to a church in the distance, opened the doors, and walked inside. To his surprise there was someone in here. It was a woman. She didn’t turn her head, but carried on sitting in silence. He walked over to her and noticed, from the back of her, that she wore a plain white dress which made her brown hair stand out. The slender woman stood up and turned towards Roconn, as if to exit the church. She was beautiful, and young, in her mid-twenties. As she neared Roconn he caught her scent, she smelt sweet. This would be a satisfying kill. But, as she got closer, she looked at him. All of sudden, as he stared into the woman’s bright, emerald-green, eyes, memories of Maria flashed before him. He froze with shock. His body would not allow him to make a kill.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Roconn managed to choke out.

  She smiled at him, showing him a set of perfectly straight, pearly-white, teeth. The smile seemed to soothe him from his blood-crazed state somehow.

  ‘My name is Roconn Romano. You look incredibly familiar. May I get your name?’

  Her cheeks flushed with colour as she blushed. She spoke with a sweet, soft, calm voice. ‘My name is Sophia.’

  Author Profile

  Connor Wolf is a young writer from Suffolk, and is currently studying painting and decorating at West Suffolk College. Connor was inspired to write books since early 2009 when a well-known author visited his primary school. Since the age of eleven Connor has experimented with a number of genres, including children’s books, horror and historical,
and he finished his first fantasy novel in early 2013. After trying many different activities, including song writing and martial arts, he finally found that his passion is writing.

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