Dusk again; and Andreas slumped in a chrome and black leather chair before the panoramic windows of his loft. Customized to his lifestyle, the layout was open but for his bedroom, constructed in the center, windowless and completely enclosed from the rest of the floor. Parties of hundreds of living and undead had raged in the huge warehouse loft and Andreas had entertained privately and undisturbed within that inner sanctum.
Now he stared morosely into the gathering night outside; hair untidy, chest bare. The events of the night before weighed on him. He was not pleased with the way the situation had forced him to leave the girl, nor the broken body of the thief. His anger had gotten out of his control, and his iron grip was slipping. He prided himself in his ability to control the raging hunger and violence that characterized vampirism itself. Many allowed them both to run free, and ultimately self-destruction followed their wonton indulgence. Vampires were a society within a society, and not unlike his customized bedroom, maintained their own rules and codes of conduct that allowed them to exist in a completely isolated manner beside humans and without their knowledge. Many humans attained the vampiric state. Few lived through the process to operate as functional vampires. As with human offspring, a new vampire might not survive his birth; and occasional 'misfires'� occurred as the cellular changes raged inside the one chosen for unlife. If a newborn Vampire became a rogue, their society euthanized it quickly. They were unsuited for survival and endangered the entire system, as it existed. While there was no formal government, there was little question when decisions were made in that respect. A circle of elders, ancient and vastly experienced, regarded themselves as leaders and guided the rest. Aemaelia, an American vampire turned in her youth, held the final sway. That circle of ancient undead encouraged debate and controversy: the practice rarely caused waves. Unless a vampire truly caused a problem, rarely would his actions cause a stir. Varied and extreme lifestyles existed within the vampire world'ghastly things beyond human tolerance'yet they did not threaten the entire group and so they were overlooked by most. Control of the hunger and rage'that was topmost in maintaining this unlife. Sighing, Andreas thrust his body away from the chair and paced a bit, feeling hunger churn. It was soon for him. He normally could go days without noticing the empty gnaw, but with its unleashing the night previous, he was on a long road to regaining his total composure. He showered and dressed, knowing he would need to hunt too soon and hating himself for it.
He was shrugging into his long black coat when he heard the footsteps of two people on the stairs outside. He paused and determined that one visitor was vampiric, and was unable to single out the other as definitely human or otherwise. Baracas, thought Andreas. Few used his back stair. The door was difficult to find from the street, and access was limited to his select companions. Baracas was another ancient; as old as Anansi, he was sure. While Andreas had respected Baracas' reticence to speak of his origins, the huge black vampire often mentioned things in passing that gave Andreas suspicions that he might have consorted intimately with Cleopatra.
Sure enough, the camouflaged back door thrust open and two people entered; the imposing figure of Baracas, bare-chested and hairless and a second, smaller figure that Andreas had seen only once before. Jaelle, Baracas' human female trailed behind him, her bearing as insubstantial as mist. Andreas knew that she had been a favorite of Baracas' harem. His harem consisted of a loosely knit group of young women initiated into the lifestyle of providing sustenance for a single vampire, allowing that vampire the comfort of a private cellar. They gave slowly until they either died outright or began a slow, painful process of turning that did not involve ingesting the blood of their vampire master. Andreas thought that the transformation came about as the master exposed the donor to the saliva and other body fluids. Whatever the process, Jaelle was turning, and Andreas suspected that this pleased Baracas immensely. Seldom did he sport women on his arm unless they were highly respected vampires like him. He kept his humans at home, far away from his nightly business and social contacts. The arrival of this female in his company was highly unusual.
Tall and painfully thin, Jaelle dressed to show her long slender thighs and prominent collarbones. Her hair was short and curled tightly against her skull. A glaring, bloody ring surrounded the iris of her warm brown eyes. Bled to an unhealthy grey color, her teeth were prominent when she smiled, and Andreas saw at a glance that she was barely keeping up with the agony of turning. Many would have holed themselves away; the long process would be maddeningly painful. This creature, neither human nor vampire still walked and functioned in a hellish kind of limbo, and her smile and speech were strained. She shook Andreas' hand weakly and then gratefully dropped to a chair at Baracas' command. Baracas, his teeth flashing white in his dark face, grinned and clapped Andreas chummily on the shoulder. Once he had recovered his feet, Andreas smiled ruefully back.
'Welcome, Baracas.'� He offered the huge vampire a seat as well, but Baracas declined and began at once with business.
'I have come from the Serpent,'� he said, his face becoming serious. 'You are to come immediately.'�
'What now?'� Andreas rolled his eyes, and began to remove his coat. 'I was mediator for the last debate, and I have no desire to stand in the way of any steamroller as implacable as Yin. I could have told Suri that she would lose and her human killed before the months spent in council.'�
'She loved him, Andreas.'�
'Yes well, much good it did him. His frenzied killing nearly brought a human investigation straight to the door of the Serpent. Had Yin not intervened and called a debate for his life, she might have brought us all to the point of hiding in caskets and caves again.'� The turning had warped her lover's mind, and he had slaughtered fourteen humans on a subway train before Suri and two others had subdued him. She had bound him in sleep, and begged for his unlife, claiming she would be responsible for his feeding and containment. Suri had come to Andreas, respected by the council and asked his help with the debate. He had mediated instead, standing between Suri and the calculating Mongol, Yin. The council flatly denied her pleas. After witnessing her insane lover's gutting and dismemberment, the remains left to the rising sun, she had lost her will to go on and became ash herself. They had carved her name into the marble of the vast chamber built below the Serpent, the hotel that concealed many of the comings and goings of the vampire community. Her lover's name was lost and forgotten. Suri had lived 457 years as a vampire. Many would miss her. Few undead were able to maintain a heart that could sustain love at all, and to lose one that was willing to love that fiercely, to Andreas, hurt them all. He sighed.
'What is it now?'� he snarled. The hunger was close, and made his manner unpleasant. Baracas glanced at him, eyebrows raised. There was a pause.
'Aemaelia has asked for you;'� Baracas said this casually, waving a huge hand noncommittally, 'a meeting outside the council authority. She did not elaborate, and I was unwilling to press her for details.'�



Andreas, Baracas and the gray, trembling Jaelle approached the dilapidated outer façade of the Serpent hotel. The city had condemned it nearly 100 years ago, yet it still stood. Rumors that were noised about the present vampire society said the building itself was actually demolished decades ago, yet the bricks and mortar had reformed themselves; not existing in the minds of humans but acting as a sort of black hole for the undead to gravitate. It seemed to escape the eye. If any building actively tried to make itself fade into the background, this one did. For Andreas, the entire structure seemed to breathe with its own life, exuding an aura of raw power that the hotel certainly must draw from those conducting the business of unlife and death within its walls. Descending into its great guts from the unusual heat of the fall night outside and through the empty lobby, Andreas trailed reluctantly behind the huge Baracas, his wariness growing. The trio passed vampires of every color and age and race and drew stares from lamplight eyes; as if all they encountered knew their destination. Past the great, cavernous amphitheater where the council met, the labyrinth of rooms and prisons, and down the winding hall that brought them to thick, heavily scrolled teak doors that marked the lair that Aemaelia called her own. They paused, and Jaelle sagged gratefully against the rough, stone, wall. Her skin was slick with sweat that reeked of her pain and exhaustion. Andreas was becoming frustrated with Baracas for forcing her to continue in this state. His own conversion had been violent and quick, an agony he did not wish to revisit, especially reflected and prolonged in the slow transition of Jaelle. His mouth swimming with distaste, he turned from her and focused on the door before them. His anticipation sharpened. Aemaelia was the final voice of the council. No edict issued that was unapproved by her. The council might hold meetings, hear opinion and debate, yet they deferred to her judgment. Andreas had stood before her in the past, but had rarely spoken to her alone, and never at her insistence. He grasped the door latch and drew it aside.
The chamber within was cool, deeply underground, with rough walls, carved from the bedrock of the earth. Tapestries of inestimable value hung on the walls, in sharp contrast to that unrefined surface. Candles of every size, from enormous pillars like the trunks of trees to slender sticks hardly larger than their wicks, flickered from every flat surface. They threw dancing shadows upon the walls, and cast corners into shadow. A large oval table graced the center of the room. Gnarled and heavy, the table looked like a root emerging from the earth coincidentally forming a table from its effort. He turned, intending to beckon Baracas and Jaelle into the room, and found the doorway empty. He looked further into the hallway toward the main part of the Serpent and saw that they had gone. Andreas frowned. He closed the door.
'Enter, Andreas.'� A low, sweet voice slid silkily through the quiet of the room.
He turned, and saw Aemaelia, her lovely face smooth and her expression unreadable. Long, honey colored hair was pulled into a tight topknot, and fell straight down her back, past her shoulders. Her figure, slender and youthful was tightly wrapped in a kimono of reds and gold that warmed her skin, giving her an appearance of life. Her brown eyes, large and doe-like met his own. It was easy to forget the physical stature of the being before him. Her tiny shoulders and slim hips belied a powerhouse beyond imagining. Andreas knew nothing of her history, only that she maintained an iron grip upon their society, brooking no argument, allowing very little leeway in the conduct of business, of the protection of their way of life. She reportedly had spies everywhere; her knowledge of the goings-on within their world was uncanny, and her judgments were swift. Knowing this about Aemaelia, Andreas was awed by her power'housed in the slight figure of a fourteen year old. Virtually no vampire of her physical age existed; humans were simply not strong enough to tolerate the change at that age. Now he bowed slightly, recognizing her.
She laughed. Her voice had the high tones of a teenager, but from her throat, the titter throbbed with power. He straightened, feeling awkward and unsure; it was an alien notion for the haughty Italian within. Aemaelia gestured graciously to one of the heavy chairs that surrounded the table. He shrugged out of the long black duster, and folded his long frame into the chair, watching her expectantly. She did not speak, only turned to a sideboard along one rough wall. An enormous crystal decanter, easily three feet high and holding a rich currant-red wine in its bulbous base. Beside it was an assortment of glasses. She lifted the monstrous decanter easily, though the unwieldy vessel must have weighed forty pounds with the addition of the fluid within. She poured for them both and brought the glasses to the table. He accepted the glass, appreciating the dance of light in the dark liquid, and sipping. Cool, it brought the flavor of the grape, but also the essence of lavender that had grown with the fruit, the pomegranate added to the barrel. His sense of taste was sharp; he enjoyed wines, but was unable to tolerate many other flavors. He found that he could stomach food if he needed to assume the appearance of life, but the tang of human sustenance was so overwhelming to his sensitive palate that he had trouble keeping his mind focused on his other surroundings. In the beginning of his experience as a vampire, he had needed only the softest materials against his skin, the most soothing music in his ears. He fought against over stimulation constantly, and even sex had been nearly impossible at first. His ardor had been crushing in its intensity when he finally braced himself to enjoy physical love again. Thankfully, the female he had coupled with his first time in darkness had been vampiric; a human woman could hardly have been able to tolerate receiving his intense touch. In the years since, he learned to filter the flow of his power; allowing only the smallest taste of his sensation to be felt by the women he enjoyed.
Aemaelia perched in another of the chairs not across from him, but beside him, folding her legs and tucking her skirt demurely beneath her. She smiled, her lips full and glossy, and she leaned forward in a familiar way that was utterly confusing to him.
'I thank you for making time to meet me, Andreas,'� she purred, and her warm eyes were sincere. 'I have long anticipated a time that I might converse with you.'� He found himself unable to speak, unsure of her meaning. She sipped from her glass, and then set it to the side.
'I sense uneasiness, Andreas. Please, you have nothing to fear. I am curious about your unlife. Are you willing to tell me about your conversion?'�
Again, he was taken aback. 'Mistress,'� he began, as was the custom before the council. 'I have few secrets. I was a fighter in the underground when Mussolini was in power. I turned during the war, and have been in this country since it ended.'� Even in his own ears, his experiences were pathetic. Confused, he stopped.
'You speak with passion before the council, Andreas,'� again, there was laughter in her voice. 'Surely you have passion within your own existence.'� Vampires rarely used the word 'life'� in their description of their reality. 'Your friendships are many. Anansi defends your character to others; Baracas' loyalty is strong enough to appear somewhat... unseemly.'� A wry smile crossed those youthful features, as if she was chagrined by the memory of her discussion with Baracas.
'Why this interest, mistress?'� Andreas asked. He had become wary at the mention of his friendships. Truly, he had no desire to allow probing of his companions.
'I admire you, Andreas.'� She said. The lacing of laughter in her words was beginning to disturb him. 'You choose your arguments well, your friendships well; surely you have more to your unlife: a lover, perhaps?'� Andreas kept his tone light, though he was longing for her to arrive at a point to this meeting. 'I have found no human I wish to convert.'� He thought of the girl, Vivian. He remembered his desire to know her, to reach into her and share his emptiness. In spite of his attempts to prevent emotion from entering his manner, a hint of anger colored his words 'My contacts with them are fleeting. Their love of danger, their insistence on empty intimacy is nauseating. I find more and more that their emotions and desires are shallow and without value.'� He stopped. Aemaelia continued to attend, her expression expectant. When he offered nothing more, she let the silence stretch for a long moment. She looked away then, and perused her glass of claret, watching the play of candle flame in the crystal. Her brown eyes seemed to search for a subject, unfocused and far away. Finally, she looked back to him, and spoke.
'I am the only council member born to darkness within this new country, Andreas,'� she began. 'The wanton behavior you see is hardly the stuff of my origins. I was Puritan. I was pious, virginal, and wholesome. I believed utterly in our severe community. The kingdom of Heaven would belong to those whose existence was clean and obedient.'� Andreas heard mockery enter her soft voice. 'When my father arranged my marriage to the pastor of our town, I did not question. The man's wife had died recently, and he was more than twice my age. His daughter was a friend.'� Aemaelia paused. She brought her glass to her face, but rather than drinking, she inhaled, sampling the bouquet. Her bosom had barely budded at the time of her conversion to vampirism, and her sigh lifted her wares only slightly. Andreas felt slight queasiness at her mention of marriage at her age.
'When our engagement was announced, his daughter was incensed. She abandoned every principle she had ever espoused, and accused me of witchcraft.'� She smiled at Andreas' look of shock. The smile twisted into a wry grimace. 'I, who had lived the code and the letter of God's laws, accused of the vilest of crimes'fornication with the Devil, with animals, the death of the pastor's wife, of infants in our township'she screamed these nauseating charges to the elders of the colony. I was foolish enough to trust that my innocence would be obvious, that God could never allow the conviction of one so wrongly accused.
'When the girl finished her litany of disgusting deeds, my own father demanded I be burned at the stake.'� She paused, her angry breathing the only sound for a moment, and then sipped the red-black wine. It stained her full lips, and her tiny, pointed tongue licked the excess away. He was mesmerized by the sight'her moist lips with their taint of wine drew his interest and he imagined that she had sipped human essence from the glass; her tongue had sampled from their fullness the copper tang of blood. He felt lightheaded and weak, yet a thread of lust wove through his hunger and he shifted uneasily, hoping that her suzerainty, her potere della mente would not detect his tumescence. Her topic was far from sexual, after all. 'I spent my last days in a filthy stable, beaten and starved. My eyes were swollen almost shut with bruises, and I could not see the ones that committed my beatings.
'I was abandoned, my faith and hope lost, in a haze of pain and hunger. I had been suckled on the notion that our community was misunderstood; an island of righteousness in a sea of sin, that our way of life must be preserved, protected from the outside world, yet while I believed that the world at large was threatening, I was betrayed from within.'� Her voice had raised, the sweet descant becoming a harpy screech in the last syllable. She caught herself, sipped to gather her emotions once more.
'I was hallucinating when I felt cool hands on my face. I begged for death first, second for forgiveness. I had begun to believe that this torture was warranted, that I must be inhabited by evil, so steeped in devilishness that it had deceived its host utterly. I was lifted, not by divine enlightenment but by the arms of a vampire, who whispered and cajoled, offered peace and strength and the promise of liberation from torment.'�
Aemaelia stood and leaned toward him, her arms braced on the table, her dark eyes direct and compelling. 'I will not allow that pain again, Andreas. I have prevented the world at large from destroying this society. I have nurtured it, cradled it, and my justice for anyone threatening this order has been swift. You will do well to remember it.'� He felt her edict as well as heard it; her face was close enough for him to smell the sangue on her words.
Andreas covered his uneasiness. Her warning implied that he had acted improperly in some manner, and he knew of no misstep. His face calm and unconcerned, eyes half lidded, he leaned away from her, his posture relaxed. 'Mistress, have you a specific cause for concern that involves my behavior as a member of this vampiric collection?'� He allowed the richness of his accent to flow through his words, keeping his voice level, no inkling of anger coloring his next statement. 'Please consider that I come from nobility'as a human, my family knew the value of bloodlines, loyalty. Certainly betrayal has no foothold in my character.'� He met her gaze again, his gray to her deep brown.
Aemaelia only smiled. The storm of gathering power dissipated as though it had never existed, and she, too leaned back, her small, pubescent figure relaxed. 'You may go, Andreas Regali.'� She murmured the words, and turned her attention to the door, which opened of its own volition.




In the quiet of Andreas' loft, the insubstantial form of the angel hovered. Many emotions and the ghosts of high tension imbued the place. The overall décor spoke of wealth, coolly modern'all black and chrome, spare and hard. In sharp contrast, the inner sanctum of Andreas' bedroom thrummed with warmth and intimacy. The walls glowed in earthy colors: brick and cocoa, glossy linens on the low-set bed were a soothing green, like unripe wheat. Pillows, cushions and curvy chairs lent a soft flow to the room, inviting, disarming. Candles, their wicks cold and black for now, graced sconces in the corners of the room. Their flames would dance and charm, allowing a guest to ignore the pallor of Andreas' skin. Drawing from the strong lingering passions and satiation of hungers and desires, the angel again settled into a human form, this time its outline stronger, drifting from the wisp of spiritual energy to a form more tending toward female, the hint of curving hips and the fullness of face. The sensual energy within the inner sanctum pulled, influenced, and finally drew the angel fully from its impartial and fluid form to mortal. Tall, copper haired and long of limb, this new creature stood still, trying to find calm in the rush of blood, the wildly thumping rhythm of her newly beating heart and equilibrium on coltish, trembling legs. Observing humans as she had in her pursuit of Andreas, she would be able to speak as they did, act enough like them to survive, but the impact of becoming human; feeling the solid floor beneath her feet, the weight of gravity in her bones, the sense of emotion awaiting on hair-trigger; these were overwhelming.
The form and the figure were mortal, within the lovely face the eyes remained those of an ethereal being. Not truly eyes at all, they exhibited no normal anatomy: vitreous, retina, lens, and iris. What roiled within the sockets, all colors and none, not light but the absence of darkness, betrayed the origin of the creature attempting to find solidity in the bedchamber of a vampire. The angel relinquished its hold on mortality once again, fading more slowly this time, as though the mortal plane would jealously keep the sweet footstep of the godly.

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