One wish alone have I

Chapter 2
The phoenix’s messenger

I crossed the hall with quick and regular steps, as usual. Their familiar sound echoed off the stone walls and high ceilings. The room was circular in shape and quite soberly decorated. The sole windows were placed very high, so that the castle’s inhabitants would be able to cross it without having the risk of being hit by sunlight. Long burgundy velvet curtains were cascading all the way down from the windows to the floor, which added to the high effect of the room.

In the middle of the hall, solemnly elevated on a pedestal, were Horatiu’s family armouries. Sculpted in the purest of white quartz, a dragon was standing on his hind legs, his head turned towards the door. His front paws were clawing an orb, reflecting the light projected by the numerous torches that had automatically lit themselves on the walls when I entered. The work was superb; it had been made by Ottoman Goblins, several generations before Horatiu’s rebirth, and had been given to his clan as a gift during an era of peace between our two species. Most of the clan found him to have a ferocious and threatening attitude. I admit that its posture, right at the front door, slightly bent towards those who enter the castle as if ready to charge them out if their intentions were not friendly, had something threatening indeed.

In addition, only a few of us knew this detail: any creature unknown to the clan and castle who attempted to pass these doors unaccompanied during the day would have had a most unpleasant surprise. They would see the velvet curtains dropping to the floor, revealing a small set of mirrors directing the sunlight right into the dragon’s orb. In turn, the orb would throw sunlight right at the intruder’s face at full intensity. That, of course, was extremely deadly if the creature was of cainite breed, even in our time. Despite the threat represented by this noble guardian, after so many years of passing again and again in front of him, I started to see something like wisdom in his eyes, which gave him some kind of posed and deep sweetness that touched my soul.

Ivantie, of course, did not share anybody’s feelings about the Great Dragon. Almost every night for the last 468 years, Ivantie had seen him standing there, and for a substantial number of decades, he had been taking guard shifts at the front door. I guess that, with time, these two had developed a proximity that allowed him to take some liberties. He had affectionately named him “Ernie”… to my despair. That earned him a slap behind the head and a furious look each time we passed through there together and he dared to yell a joyful “Evening Ernie!” My reaction only made him laugh, obviously. He did not miss one occasion, not one! No matter if we were deeply engaged in an enthusiastic conversation or simply walking in silence, he always gave me that childish look right before he gave out his usual salutation and then shut his eyes tight and raised his shoulders to his ears, waiting for the hit. And of course, he snorted stupidly each time it came, probably very aware of the fact that I tried not to laugh too. Ah, well… I guess we both loved that little game.

I passed again in front of the Great Dragon and gave him a respectful and silent salute; it was the least I could do. I saw the orb filling with foggy white smoke. This did not happen often and was usually a sign that my visionary skills were at their best, but unfortunately, I was rather in a hurry and I went on to the great stairs.

Marilena, as Horatiu’s successor at the head of the clan, occupied his suite. It was located in the southern part of the castle, just like mine. The view from these windows reminded me very much of what could be seen from the top of the Carpathians. First, the cliff, then the end of the mountains\' slopes and, further away, never-ending fields of barley and wheat, ever changing as the seasons went by. I knocked on her door.

“Who is it?” said a feminine, high-pitched voice.

“Antanasia. I have an urgent message for Marilena.”

The door opened and Floarea, Lady Marilena’s duenna and guard, showed her lovely face in the opening.

“She cannot see you now, Antanasia. She is getting dressed.”

“It cannot wait. You have to let me in right now! There is a stranger who wants to see her.”

A voice came from the back of the room. A full, deep and melodious voice.

“Let her come to me, Floarea. I want to hear what she has to say.”

Obediently, Floarea moved aside and let me through the door. Marilena’s apartments were quite small, but very cosy. From the austere and masculine den that had existed when Horatiu lived there, very little remained. Probably just the large tapestry, representing the Great Dragon fighting an army of giants that was hung above the fireplace. Other than the tapestry, her coffin was the most noticeable element in the room. Thanks to her money and persuasion skills, Marilena had had it crafted in Kenya, by the Laibon of a Masai tribe. It was entirely made of ebony and ivory. War and hunt tales had been carved all along the opening of the coffin and then painted in that fiery red that only Masai warriors can wear. In contrast, the rest of the room was made of smooth and aerial fabrics, mostly in shades of saffron, reds and oranges, remains of Marilena’s other life.

Marilena was Spanish before her rebirth. She was born in Andalucia, in the cradle of her parents’ gypsy clan. In addition to Horatiu’s natural enthusiasm that had been passed to her during her making, the fire of her people still burned in her blood and gave her an ever-changing temper. She could be as soft, caring and reassuring as a mother and yet become angry like a child, or cold and threatening like the eyes of a cobra ready to attack. The people of her clan loved her, despite her mood swings. When she was in her best disposition, she was festive and frivolous... and an insatiable lover. If clan leaders were generally lonely because of their position, it was not Marilena’s case. She always knew how to regain her people’s good feelings after an explosion of bad temper, be it to get forgiveness from a man, a woman... or a group of both. That generosity was one-way only, however. Marilena suffered betrayal only once from her people.

She was sitting at her vanity when I entered. She was wearing a pair of high-heeled brown leather boots and nothing else, it seemed. Despite her becoming a cainite, she had kept the tanned complexion of her origins, and the colour of her boots nicely accentuated the dark colour of her skin. Her status of leader in Zaharia seemed well deserved, for there was something in her face that always reminded me of the moon. Her features were all in full curves, like the rest of her body. Her black hair was very thick and fell straight to the middle of her back. It was so dark that the light often gave it some surreal blue sheen. Her eyes were adorned with large irises of the most peculiar colour, something between a dark blue and mauve, which added to her supernatural look. Her nose was coquettish and pointed up, as if it was used to ordering and being obeyed. Her mouth was full, voluptuous, and often opened in a mysterious half friendly, half condescending smile that embarrassed all those who did not know her well. The rest of her body was as voluptuous as her face: smooth velvety skin, a gracious long neck leading to round, full breasts, adorned by large dark nipples, a flat stomach, well curved hips, two nicely shaped buttocks and long, feline legs.

She looked at me in her mirror and smiled when she saw that I was observing her. She let me look at her offered body, carelessly brushing her hair. To be honest, I was a bit mesmerized by Marilena’s lack of decency. Just like the many contradictions in her personality, it produced, each time I found myself faced with it, contradictory feelings inside of me. I found her body simply superb and I did appreciate the occasion to freely look at it when I had the chance. Still, I saw she was thoroughly enjoying the pride of being admired and her vanity always made me suppress that delicious and discreet shiver I originally felt running down my spine. This occasion was no exception. She was perfectly aware of my presence behind her, and yet acted as if I did not exist. She kept brushing her hair in long and studied moves, caressing her hardening nipples with her arms as they went up and down, again and again. Her name, “bitter grace” had been extremely well chosen.

At long last, she put her brush down and said, looking at me from her mirror:

“So, Antanasia... has the British wizard arrived?”

“Yes, my Lady. He arrived not so long ago. Ivantie is taking care of him and his mount as we speak. They will soon both be installed and resting.”

“Good, good...” she said, as if it were the last thing she cared about.

“Should I spread the word around to everybody so they can get ready for an early meeting?” I asked.

“It won’t be necessary. Floarea already made sure everybody would be up early, just in case he would arrive sooner than expected. You were already gone when she knocked on your door.”

“May I ask how you knew of his arrival, my Lady?”

“That wizard, though arriving at a most peculiar time in the evening, did not come unannounced, obviously,” she answered moodily. “His superior sent me a letter by owl two days ago. Nevertheless, his visit must remain as secret as possible. I would prefer it not to leak out of the castle. Please ensure that I make myself perfectly understood by everybody.”

“Certainly, your Ladyship. I will do as you wish.”

She turned and leaned her arms against the back of her chair.

“Now, tell me what I want to hear!” she said, in an eager tone.

“What you want to hear…?”

“Come on, you know what I am talking about! What does he look like?”

“I am very sorry, but you will have to see for yourself. I did not get the chance to see his face.”

“Really, nothing at all?” she insisted.

“He was tightly wrapped in his cloak most of the time. I can only say that he seems to be tall... and black-haired.”

“Ah, that’s a beginning!” she exulted, apparently satisfied with what she was hearing. “And what is your feeling about him?”

“My feeling, Lady?”

“Yes, Antanasia, your feeling! Does he seem funny, sad, ambitious, irritable, warm-blooded? Do you think he can be trusted?” she explained, irritably.

“As a matter of fact, I did not feel much. He seems to be rude and a man of a few words, but then it might have been the exhaustion of the trip,” I answered, trying to keep my composure.

“Exhaustion or not, I know just the way to lift his spirits a little bit!”

She got on her feet and I saw she was wearing a thong made of fine black lace.

“Floarea, get my red dress!”

She did as ordered and helped Marilena put it on. It was a long red silk dress, very tight, with a heart-shaped neckline that underlined her cleavage very nicely. Her nipples, still quite stiff, pressed against the fabric. The dress was held to her upper body by thin straps that led to a deep opening in her back. The bottom of the dress had multiple slits from her knees down, so the fabric could wave gracefully around her legs as she walked, providing a nice view of her boots.

Floarea brought her one of the numerous jewel cases that were displayed on the vanity. Marilena chose a large ruby necklace made of elaborate patterns that encircled her neck, accentuating its long lines, and then fell down in a cascade of red drops all over her chest.

She was looking at herself in a large psyche when seemingly, she realized that I was still there. Waving her hand on the side she said imperiously, without looking at me, “You may leave now, Antanasia. Go change to more appropriate clothing and meet us in the dining room in half an hour.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

In a bow, I left the room, after I gave Floarea a little goodbye smile.

Still walking quickly and steadily, I went up two flights of stairs and entered my apartments. I had already thrown myself in a Recamier next to my coffin when the door closed behind me. I gave out a long, painful sigh. We were still in early evening, the moon had barely risen and already, I felt as tired as if I had been working until dawn! Stretching lazily, I removed my tank top, my pants and threw them on my open coffin. I kicked my boots off and removed my socks, leaving only my underwear and bra, both made of comfortable cotton. I sighed again, in relief this time, and let my head fall back and rest on the cushioned edge of the Recamier.

“Pffff… the night is hot, tonight!” I thought.

Feeling too lazy to move, I barely lifted an eyelid and, with a snap of my fingers, my windows slid open. Immediately, the evening fresh breeze gently came in and started to caress my skin. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the sensation. The very thin sweat that covered my body vanished into the air. As sensitive as ever, my skin reacted immediately. I felt the touch of the breeze and then, the ticklish sensation of the soft duvet on my arms erected with pleasure. I moaned softly and, one of my feet sliding slowly from the Recamier to the floor, opening my legs a little wider, I drifted further into the moment. The air smelled wonderful. All the roses had blossomed in the garden and the breeze carried their smell to me, along with the humid scent of the great fall and the earthy smell of the soaked grass and soil nearby. Everything outside was silent, except for a turtledove that was singing her sobbing song on a tree nearby. Strange how, depending on one’s feelings, those three notes can sound as a complaint or as comforting words.

Unable to decide which of those were more appropriate to my present mood, I simply let the sound rock my reverie. I admit it; my thoughts did not dwell long on my nightly schedule before they irremediably drifted to the wizard. A part of me regretted my initial reaction towards him. First of all, if Marilena knew about his visit and had made no special arrangements to prevent it from happening, then it was certainly because it represented an advantage for us. Marilena’s special care to choose a provocative, yet classy outfit was probably not for her own interest only. In addition to the appeal of fresh, new flesh, she wanted to make him feel welcome.

What about him? What could have attracted him to Transylvania tonight? To my knowledge, the castle was in no need for allies, as the relationships between the surrounding clans had been quite good and well tempered for the last fifty-five years. Marilena was not foolish enough to fetch a lover as far as in Britain; there were plenty of wizards available nearby that could satisfy her fancies. Anyway, she did say that it his superior who had sent the wizard. A treaty, maybe? An exchange of favours?

I shuddered at the thought. Our last collaboration with the magical world in Britain had ended quite bitterly. The price to pay had been high. Very high… the price I paid had been very high. I was about to sink in dreadful memories when I felt a finger slide, as light as a feather, from my cleavage up to my chin. Startled, I opened my eyes and rose to my feet, ready to fight the intruder out. I found myself nose to nose with Ivantie, beaming in front of me, as mischievous as ever. He winked at me and kissed my nose.

“Now, Madame, how dare you show me such a superb throat in that shocking manner!” he said, with an outraged tone that sounded totally sham, still looking right into my eyes.

“Monsieur, it is I who should be offended! How dare you come in without knocking! These apartments are not yours, if I remember well...”

“Ah, but you little teaser, you knew I was coming to see you! And what do I see when I come in as planned? You, nice lady, wearing the strict minimum, all lost in your thoughts, with that wonderfully smooth neck shamelessly offered to me... just like the rest, for that matter!”

I chuckled, a little to play along with him, a little to ease my embarrassment, a little because I knew this silly game of his, and a little to stop the burning sensation I felt on my cheeks.

“Fear no more, my friend!” I said, in an authoritarian tone. “Thou shall not be shocked in that manner again!”

“I am taking your word on that,” he replied, with a strange smile.

His eyes had suddenly lost their usual twinkle and his subsequent silence made me feel a bit uneasy. I buried my hand in his thick wavy locks and asked, empathetically, “Long shift?”

“Oh, not that bad,” he said, sitting with me on the Recamier and leaning the back of his head against my stomach as I kept stroking his hair. “These last years, guard shifts have been quite relaxed. I have been more in danger of dying of boredom than of dying per se! I admit that this guy and his hippogriff were a nice change to the routine!”

“How was the rest of your time together? Did you learn anything about the reason of his visit?”

“That guy really did not say much, to be honest with you. He remained silent until we both Disapparated on the other side of the cliff. Then he asked me some directions as to where he could land with the hippogriff. He totally refused my help when I suggested that I could mount the animal and take it there myself. He looked at me then as if I had something to hide, something in mind to, I don’t know, attack him, rob him or something like that. After that, he kept looking at me with a very suspicious glare and always had a hand in his pocket. I bet you he was keeping his wand at the ready.”

“Wow, now that’s a friendly fellow!” I said, sarcastically.

“Maybe this time you’re right, Antanasia. I feel a bad vibe coming from that wizard. He does not seem to be very honest, authentic. Nothing I said seemed to lead him to warmer feelings.”

“Speaking of that, Ivantie, when you rudely interrupted my train of thought, I was thinking that my initial reaction to him might have been erroneous. I told Marilena that the tiredness he probably felt after his journey could explain his attitude. Plus the fact that he found himself surrounded by strangers, and from a different breed in addition. I would certainly be suspicious if I were in his shoes.”

“That is true. I guess we will have to wait a little and observe him more to have a precise opinion about him. How was the Lady this evening?”

“The usual. She has known the wizard was coming since two days ago. Apparently, she did not spread the word around before because she wishes that his visit remains secret. She asked me to make sure it will not leak out of the castle.”

“Is the wizard in trouble?”

“I do not know. I had not thought about that one... do you think he is using Zaharia as a hiding place?”

“That would explain his paranoia, at least.”

“You are right. Maybe that is it. Anyway, Ivan, the Lady got all well dressed to welcome him in the dining room. It sounds a bit official. I guess we will be informed of the details during the meeting.”

“Does that mean we will have the pleasure, at long last, to see you wear more festive outfits, Cherie?” he suddenly asked, looking at me with his head tilted back.

“That certainly means I will choose something appropriate, just like you should! Do you not want to shower and change? You barely have ten minutes left!”

“I should hurry up, then,” he said, getting to his feet. “See you downstairs!” he cried and, after caressing my cheek softly, he left.

I got up, rendered a bit more energetic by Ivantie’s visit. I went to my closet and opened it wide.

“A more festive outfit, huh?” I said out loud.

In front of me, all my dresses, robes, pants, blouses and similar pieces of clothing were classified by colour. On the left, numerous black outfits took most of the place. And on the right, cheerful reds, blues, yellows, lavender… the remains of what seemed to be another life. For a few minutes, I caressed the clothes absentmindedly… silks, linens, cottons, cashmere… Ivantie’s words kept echoing in my head. “A more festive outfit…” I closed my eyes and picked one piece of clothing. It was a lavender dress. Appropriate for summer, but definitely too casual. I threw it on my coffin. I picked an other dress. It was made of bright yellow and had patterns of orange hibiscuses… too much. It joined the lavender dress. One by one, I picked pieces of clothing, even tried some on me, but nothing seemed to fit. Pants were too casual, dresses were too shockingly bright or too warm or too… too filled with memories.

With an exasperated sigh, I picked one of my black dresses. It was very simple, but classy. It had a V-shaped neckline, not too deep, and was tied behind my neck with long silky ribbons that fell in one long line along my bare back. It was tight enough to underline the curves of my hips, but then fell loosely down to my ankles. No slits, no ornaments, no fuss. It was perfect.

I chose nice high-heeled shoes, black as well, with an open toe and showing most of my feet, except it wrapped my heels from the back to then tie around my ankles. I had no time to do my hair, so I hurriedly brushed it and rushed out of the room, after sending all my other clothing back in the closet with a wave of my hand.

I ran down three flights of stairs and went to the garden. There, I found a nice white lily and charmed it to hold a lock of hair, just above my right ear. I looked at my appearance in one of the castle’s windows and, satisfied, slowly walked back inside, to the dining room.

What I saw was almost the habitual sight I got every evening. The dining room was the largest place in the castle. Its doors were a great work of art. They reproduced Rodin’s “La Porte de l’Enfer”, carved in grey marble. Vasile, shortly after his arrival at the castle in 1925, had bewitched it to be in perpetual movement. It had been a rather long work, as he had insisted to attend every detail and give each character a distinct “personality”. These figures, because of their inability to speak, were very expressive and always tried to get the attention of all those who passed nearby. Most of them were civilized and polite, but quite a few often went as far as grabbing somebody’s clothes in hope to have a longer “conversation”. One of them had gone as far as pinching my buttock, but I had given it such a fright with a threat of splashing acid on its face that it had never attempted such a bold move again. In fact, that incident had provoked quite a metamorphose in its behaviour; each time I passed, it gently held out its hand, led me inside when I complied and even kissed my hand softly when it felt I was in a friendly mood.

These doors led to a beautiful ballroom, most conveniently used as a Café or cocktail room when we were just between ourselves. It was the case, that evening. Many small tables, covered with dark red tablecloths, were placed all over the hardwood floor. Usually, the only light came from small lanterns placed on each table, but when I entered, I saw that all the large chandeliers had been lit, which produced an intense and cheerful light. High windows were placed all along the walls and were also used as doors. They all led to the garden; the castle had been designed so that this room would be central, being also well protected by the rest of the fortress buildings. Two long velvet curtains, of a deep forest green colour, separated the ballroom from the dining room. These curtains often gave me the impression that the dining room was some kind of stage. Sometimes, I passed from one room to the other feeling like an actress about to perform in a well-rehearsed play; sometimes I merely felt like a spectator. I felt more like the latter, if I remember well, that precise evening.

I looked around me. Most of the cainites present there were Marilena’s descendants. Vasile, a short-sized kindred with greying hair (he said it gave him an air of wise dignity) and cheerful features was chatting with Iulian, who was very tall, thin, and had a pointy nose, small expressive grey eyes often opened wide in astonishment and fidgety hands. Their conversation was most probably about the Elvish art gallery Vasile had visited in Russia, a few days ago. I smiled. They were arguing yet one more time about the specific characteristics and historical impact of various forms of Modern Art, which looked all the same to me anyway (and did not look like much, if you ask me!). I had tried a few times to jump into their conversations, but fell short of words in a matter of minutes.

Niculaie was there too, sitting at a table with Marcela. Niculaie had been made during the Independence war, somewhere near a battlefield in South Carolina. I heard that Marilena had had a thing for British soldiers at the time, so she had spent a few years in America at the time of the war. Niculaie had long, bleached-blond hair tied in a queue, very pale yellowish eyes, a long straight nose and very thin lips. His features and his voice were usually very neutral, as if nothing of his thoughts could be betrayed by his expression. Marcela was quite his opposite. She had been made around the same time than Niculaie’s rebirth, but was Australian in origin. She was also middle-sized, quite sturdy, had short black hair and features full of determination. She usually made sure everybody heard her opinion, no matter if they were sitting next to her or standing at the other end of the room. She had a great sense of humour, though, and I remember quite a few funny times when we took guard shifts together. That evening, Niculaie and Marcela were probably talking about the latest Muggle arms that had been invented. What else could make them speak so low, both excitedly bent over what looked like a magazine? Ah, these two always got all excited when they could put their hands on modern war equipment, mostly things they had managed to steal from inexperienced dealers on the Muggle black market. I wondered what they would do if they ever got their hands on some deadlier things…

“Bah, these two were Muggles before, they still show an inexplicable stubbornness to rely on Muggle ways and customs when it comes to defence, I do not see why that would change,” I thought. “More subtle, delicate, mental skills will remain out of their reach anyway.”

Cami and Catalina were also sitting at a table nearby. They were the youngest of our clan, no fledglings anymore, but barely fifty years old each. They were often mistaken for sisters, first of all because they had been both reborn in France (though respectively Belgian and Quebecois in origin), and second of all because they looked pretty much alike. Both were middle-sized, had graceful curves and the loveliest green eyes and dark blond hair, falling in wavy locks down to the middle of their back. Cami was a bit more reserved than Catalina; her voice was very soft and she usually silently listened to conversations, not losing a word, however. She had the brightest intelligence and was destined to be a skilled witch before her rebirth. Catalina was also very sweet, but far more curious. She often spent hours in my apartments, asking questions about a wide variety of topics, such as history, literature, other cultures, and so on. She was extremely knowledgeable in music; she had been using her longevity to improve her skills at many instruments, but cello and singing were her greater strengths. Marilena often asked her to perform in her private apartments.

I was about to join them at their table when I came face to face with Mara, a respected cainite, tall, thin to the point of being bony, with straight dark brown hair, dark eyes and full lips, usually opened in a sarcastic smile made of the whitest teeth. She always took special care to follow all the new trends of fashion and often acted as Marilena’s personal advisor in that area. Valeriu, her latest lover, a sturdy and tall cainite with lovely maroon eyes and blond curly hair, newly added to the clan and close friend of Niculaie, accompanied her. With her usual hyena-like smile, she told me, “Evening, Antanasia! How nice to see you have finally decided to show a little care in your clothing!”

“It seems the occasion was appropriate for it, Mara. You’ll forgive me not to dress each and every night as if Merlin himself were coming to visit. I seem to succeed in keeping in mind that I only have the pleasure of, say, your company, for example, which does not seem to call for extravagance,” I replied breezily.

“Indeed not,” she said, dryly, looking all over me to find something to tease me with. Her smile came back within seconds. “But I see you still haven’t broken your old habits. Black dress, white lily… one would swear we’re all going to a funeral again! Ah, I guess this is not surprising considering your… rather peculiar tastes.”

Mara and Valeriu both chuckled and walked on. I guess I was used to her cynical sense of humour, because I do not remember reacting much to yet another criticism about my style. She had been using these old jokes for so many years…

I looked around. A few others were there: Marian, Elena, Vlad… the latter was the only member of our clan whose both parents (themselves being Marilena’s descendents) were of cainite breed. His features were markedly kindred-like in nature. His face was very pale, just like his eyes: a pale blue. Everything was thin and delicate in his face: vast forehead, long thin straight nose, high cheekbones, pointy chin and thin colourless lips. The rest was built following the same rules: long legs and arms, not a very sturdy constitution, yet there was always a sense of dignity in his posture and gait. He was a quiet man and mostly devoted his time to reading books about a myriad of topics, practically hidden in the library. I cannot say that we were close friends, but there was definitely a certain complicity between us. From time to time, I went to find him in the library and we just kept talking. He was extremely cultured and his company was very soothing, for me. I even taught him a couple of spells when he felt like it and, by then, he had practically mastered the basics.

Where could Ivantie be? Probably still getting ready in his room. Marilena was to come any minute, then, but I assumed she would forgive his delay, as he was the one who had taken care of our guest. Speaking of which, I finally saw him, sitting at a table in a corner of the room. He had probably entered after me, for I was sure he had not been there a few minutes before. Like me, he was observing the people in the room, very calmly, almost lazily. He must have felt observed too, because he suddenly turned his head towards me and looked right into my eyes. I quickly looked away and was about to walk towards Cami and Catalina when I felt something hit me.

The wizard had quickly thrown a spell at me and I felt invisible fingers pressing gently, but firmly against my right arm, holding me on spot. I looked back at him to inquire about his audacity, but he had raised and was walking towards me, with a confidant and authoritarian gait. Seeing that I had no intention to leave, he released the spell and my arm felt free again. I had the occasion to plainly satisfy my curiosity during the few seconds he took to make his way between the tables and chatting people. My first impression had been right: the wizard was tall and black-haired. Curiously enough, he did not even seem to be a stranger anymore in that place, as if he had belonged there. He was wearing a frock coat, tightly buttoned all the way up to his throat, over what was probably a white shirt, from the tiny strips of material I saw around his wrists and above his collar. I remember it made me wonder if he had taken special care in that choice of clothing because he feared that one of us might have been tempted to taste his flesh.

I chuckle now as I write this: my guess was so far from the truth! First of all, that kind of cowardly worry most certainly had never crossed his mind and second of all, he was far too attached and used to that austere style to even consider changing it, no matter what the occasion was. And even I admit that it fits wonderfully well with his personality. But enough about his clothes, as of course I observed the rest as well.

I did not find him attractive at all when I finally looked at his face. His skin was very pale, yet still in harmony with the kindred around him. His hair fell, straight and thick, to the level of his neck. Its lack of movement as he walked suggested it had a rather thick and heavy texture as well. His face struck me with its very strong features. First, his vast forehead, suggesting some spirituality, was scarred with a deep vertical line, right in the middle. His spirituality was probably as austere as his look, I concluded, and that time I was not entirely wrong. Thick black eyebrows were overhanging two small but very dark black eyes, seemingly so dark that no sparkle would ever be able to shine through them. His nose was rather big and hooked, leading to two other long, deep vertical lines that fell on each side of his mouth, as if his face were condemned to a perpetually tired and severe expression. His mouth was a bit peculiar: its lower lip was full and voluptuous and its upper lip had very expressive curves, as if it were destined to sneer rather than smile. His jaw was square, strong and virile, just as his chin. To summarise, the wizard left me with a strong impression, but nothing strong enough to owl my Sire about it.

He finally reached me, but seemed in no hurry to speak. He merely stood next to me, his eyes fixed on an imaginary point over my left shoulder. I wanted to act according to my recent better intentions towards him, so I took the initiative of the conversation, trying to be as neutral as I could.

“I see you have mastered what I called, a very long time ago, the art of “pocket wand-waving”!”

“It would seem so,” he said, his voice slightly warmer than what I had heard before. “Never thought I would meet the inventor of the actual technical term.”

“I did not say I invented it... I might not look very young to you, Mister, but still, I am no elder yet!” I said, impatiently.

Now where did that come from? He had gone along with the tease, why was I spoiling it? I think we were both as taken aback with my reaction, because neither of us said anything for a long minute. We must have looked so stupid, both standing rigidly in front of each other, both obviously wanting to be somewhere else, but both trying to be civilized... and doing a poor job. He coughed softly and said awkwardly, “I think we may have started on the wrong foot...”

“Indeed... twice.”

“I owe you an apology about our first meeting.”

“No offence taken,” I lied, looking at the floor, “I guess my... aerial pestering was very annoying indeed.”

“Oh, that, yes... yes. But I was referring to my interruption of what seemed to be a very peaceful meditation.”

I raised my head and looked at him. First, in astonishment, but quickly after, with a suspicious frown. Had that impudent and boastful Brit entered the sacred alcove of my mind? And he dared come to me and brag about it, in addition? What an arrogant fool! I felt an intense urge to scratch my nails down his face as the little blood I had in mine completely left. He sensed the extent of my reaction, because he first repressed a slight sneer on the corner of his lips, then raised his hands and said, condescendingly, “Look, I did not mean to--”

But he did not have the occasion to finish. Marilena, led by Ivantie and followed by Floarea, passed the great ballroom doors. The effect was immediate: everybody bent in a slight but respectful bow, including the wizard.

“There you go,” I thought, “Common kindred are not worth it, but when it’s time to bow in front of big shots, you quickly comply!”

Marilena stopped in front of us and observed him for a few seconds. At once, by looking at the way her eyes had quickly probed him from head to toe without dwelling on anything in particular, I knew she was slightly disappointed. The wizard did not seem to meet the expectations she had of finding another Gilderoy Lockhart! Nevertheless, she smiled courteously and shook his hand. I also observed that her choice of outfit had reached its goal. Though absolutely nothing had changed on the wizard’s pale face, a quick flicker of his glance down her cleavage did betray him. And Marilena, as ever vigilant for that kind of interest, noticed it at once.

“Welcome to Zaharia, Professor Snape,” she said. “I hope you will find your stay most enjoyable and, believe me, each and everyone of us will do their best to make it so.”

She bent forward and whispered, between our heads, “Each and everyone of us...”

To this day, I still do not know if she was simply placing her pawns for the game she planned to play later with the wizard or if she had meant it as a warning, ordering me to adopt a more pleasant attitude towards him. Nevertheless, she quickly straightened and added, in a light tone, “Everybody must be hungry, especially you, Professor. Why don’t we go in the next room and sit down to table? I have made arrangements for you to have more... appropriate means of nourishment.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lady Marilena,” he said, bowing slightly once more.

She took his arm and led him toward the dining room. I grabbed Ivantie’s offered arm rather abruptly and clenched my nails against the fabric of his midnight blue silk shirt.

“Easy, easy tigress! Keep your energy for later, will you? The night is still young!” he murmured mockingly in my ear.

“You know what the wizard did?” I murmured through clenched teeth. “He came to me and deigned inform me that he penetrated my mind an hour ago!”

“He broke through your mind barriers? Him? Aren’t you skilled at Occlumency?”

“Of course I am! But I was totally alone, there; I did not need to protect myself! And that fool simply thought it was a good idea to jump right in!”

“But why would he tell you about it?” he asked, puzzled.

“Supposedly, to apologize. In my opinion, it was to brag about his own Legilimens capacities.”

“Mmmh... I guess your previous good dispositions are far away now?”

“You bet they are, they proved to be quite ephemeral. I feel so used! I have no idea of what he has seen in there! It happened so fast that I did not even notice it! I don’t know what makes me the most angry: the fact that he is skilled or the things he might have seen.”

“Try not to think too much about it, Antanasia. I had a little chat with Marilena on my way here and she has seen your reluctance. She will keep an eye on you this evening and, since she seems to be in hunting mode, I would not interfere too much with her plans if I were you.”

He pressed an arm around my waist and kissed me on the top of my head. He was right, as always. Knowing that I would control my emotions with difficulty, I sat as far as I could from Marilena and the wizard. Fortunately for me, Ivantie, Cami and Catalina were my immediate surroundings at the table.

The dining room was decorated in continuity with the ballroom. High windows, green curtains, hardwood floors. On the wall opposite to the great doors, Oriana and Horatiu’s portraits were hung, next to each other. They had been made long ago, when artists did not have the resources to make them have a life of their own, so they remained perfectly still in their frames. Marilena’s portrait was there as well, along with a few other original works of art, mostly from kindred artists, but a few were Elvish, Magical or Goblinian in origin. Vasile and Iulian were to thank, obviously, for those.

The dining table was dressed as usual: a long white lace tablecloth with individual goblets for each of us. That time, Marilena had had the delicacy to have the habitual crystal goblets replaced by opaque, golden ones, in case our guest would be uncomfortable with the sight of their content. The wizard’s place, at Marilena’s left, was provided with a plate, silver implements and the same golden goblet. After the meal was served, Marilena got up and addressed the assembly.

“Dearest ones! Tonight is a special night, for we have a guest at our table, in the person of Professor Severus Snape. He came all the way from England to discuss political matters of utmost seriousness that even I have not yet been fully informed of. I am aware that you must be, as much as I am, very eager to hear this gentleman’s message. Nevertheless, I dare think our kind has mastered the art of patience and we will first enjoy the delights of sharing a meal together.”

She raised her glass and, as we got up and did the same, she cheered:

“To Professor Snape! As the saying goes: May you take a little of what we offer as you come and leave a little of yourself when you go!”

“To Professor Snape!” replied the group at once.

And the usual prattling resumed around the table. I did not hear what Marilena and Snape talked about; they were too far from me. I know that Marilena and Mara, sitting at Snape’s left, did their best to entertain him. I do not know if it worked, however. Though the ladies laughed often and kept talking animatedly, Snape mostly nodded occasionally, keeping his face set and his attention carefully focused on the food in his plate; chicken, if I remember well. I did make an attempt to get a feeling of his mood at that moment, but my move hit a stonewall. I did not insist.

Ivantie, Cami, Catalina and I mostly talked about the plans we had for the night. Ivantie, having another day shift coming, mostly planned to get some rest, while Cami had planned to spend most of the night taking care of the garden. She had been assigned to that task because despite her sweetness and calmness, she was very bold and did not fear the garden’s unpredictable powers. Catalina had been asked by the Lady to perform for our guest later that night, so her schedule mostly involved practice and preparation. My tasks of the night were the same routine. The well-known tasks as well as the secret ones...

Vasile hit his goblet a few times with one of his enormous rings in order to take the floor. When everybody was silent, he said, smiling, “My Lady, if you will allow me a few words...”

“Go ahead, Vasile,” she said, courteously.

“I simply wanted to say that the meal is really exceptional this evening. And, of course, we have only one lovely person to thank for it. To Antanasia!”

He clapped his hands a few seconds and everybody joined in. Snape, looking surprised, asked him, “Correct me if I am wrong, but I was under the impression that your kind only fed on blood...”

“We do, Professor, we do! Not so long ago, our kind still had to feed directly from the source, if you know what I mean,” he explained cheerfully. “But, along with the other scientific discoveries that allowed us to improve our situation, such as our sensitivity to garlic and sunlight, some of us worked for years to find a new mean of feeding. Antanasia, as our Potions Mistress for many decades, made an amazing scientific breakthrough by finding the way to synthesize human-like blood, allowing us to feed without the annoying part that involves hunting and killing. Far more convenient and more relaxing, if you ask me!”

“And more ethical, Vasile,” I commented, in a warning but amused tone.

“Yes, yes, that too,” he said, distractedly. “She can even vary the tastes from day to day, which completes the illusion.”

“Vary the tastes?” Snape asked, seemingly curious.

“Yes, Professor. Though some cainites are able to restrain themselves from killing their vessels, there always comes a point when a change is necessary, providing a variety to the feeding sources. Just as each being is unique, so is its blood,” I explained. “I simply thought that a wider variety of tastes would be most satisfactory, especially for those among us who have been used to the… old ways.”

“I see. That is very impressive,” he commented, his face still set and neutral.

I did not believe a second that this arrogant man really meant what he had just said.

“Thank you. I am currently working on varying the taste a little more, providing it with a new range of flavours, such as various types of alcohol. Eventually, I would even like to test it on addicted Lushes, as part of some detox treatment.”

“I am afraid I am not familiar with that term. What is a Lush?”

“A Lush is a cainite who habitually feeds upon mortals who have been drugged and/or intoxicated, in order to get the corresponding taste and mostly the effects. Some, like mortals, eventually grow dependent on it. Antanasia is coming close to finding the properly stable compound as we speak,” Ivantie explained.

“So as I understand it, you work as a physical and mental healer as well?” Snape asked.

“You could say so.”

“And she would have been an even better one if she had not drifted for a while on useless treatment targets!” intervened Marilena, who did not like that the conversation slowly turned away from her. “But tell us about you, Professor Snape. What do you teach?”

“Ironically, I am a Potions Master at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I have been teaching there for the last fifteen years,” he said, still looking at me.

But Marilena did not let him continue his conversation with me. Keeping her hand firmly on his right arm, she kept him talking with her for the rest of the meal. The stonewall I had felt before was even stronger at that moment.

After all the goblets and other accessories had been removed from the table, Marilena got up and left for the ballroom, followed by the rest of us. We all sat at the many small tables and Snape, standing in front of the closed Great doors, finally explained the reason of his visit:

“As you probably all know, in that period of time between the forties and seventies, a powerful wizard rose to power in England and associated himself with a group of supporters, called the Death Eaters. That group terrorized England during all the seventies and, in reaction to their criminal activities, an other group, the Order of the Phoenix, was formed in order to help our Aurors to fight the Dark Lord and his supporters. The help your clan has provided at that time in the Order’s spying activities have been greatly appreciated. Albus Dumbledore wanted you to know one more time how grateful he was for your generous gesture.”

“Please tell him it has been our pleasure to give a helping hand,” replied Marilena.

Ivantie took my hand in his and gently stroke its back with his thumb while Snape continued.

“In 1981, the Dark Lord was incomprehensibly defeated during his attempt to kill a baby wizard, now an adolescent, called Potter.”

I winced. I strong emotion had just reached me as he had pronounced these last words. For a split second, Snape had weakened his defences and I had accessed his feelings. They were complex and mixed, but during the moment I could feel them, I most definitely recognized deep loathing. But as impassable as ever, he continued.

“Subsequently, many Death Eaters were captured and went through trial. Some were left free of any accusations, while others were imprisoned. During the eighties, the Dark Lord was forced into hiding and a relative calmness reigned over the magical world in England. Nevertheless, the Dark Lord slowly regained enough power to gather one follower, who helped him in an attempt to come back to life. Fortunately, the attempt failed and the follower died in the process. Year after year, the Dark Lord tried to fully regain his powers until one of his most devoted servants finally found him and helped him reach his goal and come back to a human form. Not losing a second, he called his Death Eaters back to duty and their meetings resumed where they had left. That was one year ago.”

Nobody talked, in the room. Everybody was listening to Snape’s words so raptly that one could have heard a pin fall on the floor. Even the figures on the Great doors had stopped moving and all looked at him as he talked. Of course, we already knew most of the information he was telling us. Most of us kept in touch with the Magical world by reading the newspapers (and, in my case, listening to the rivers, which was far more instructive, at times). However, the newspapers had not reported some of the lugubrious details we had just heard.

“During this last year, the Order of the Phoenix, fully informed of the Dark Lord’s coming back to power, also resumed its meetings. The Death Eaters’ activities have been closely watched and it came to our knowledge that the Dark Lord was after specific items, well guarded in the Ministry of Magic. The Order had managed to keep a close look on these items until a group of out-of-control adolescents, led by Potter, broke into the Ministry of Magic, on some foolish rescue mission in response to what was only a trap set by the Dark Lord. The members of the Order came to their rescue and a brief but violent encounter occurred with a large group of Death Eaters. The Dark Lord and one of his followers managed to escape but, fortunately, several Death Eaters were captured. The Order did not suffer any important loss; the only member killed in battle had not proved to be very useful anyway.”

Was that joy I had felt coming from him at that moment? Surely not... no, it was more like amusement, which was not necessarily more reassuring.

“All this to say that we have also been informed that the Dark Lord’s followers have been sent on missions all over Europe in order to gather more supporters. One of them has been reported negotiating with a tribe of giants and, as far as we know, our own messengers failed their mission and the giants’ support went to the Dark Lord. It was expected that a Death Eater would soon be sent to your clan to negotiate an alliance. Professor Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, sent me here in a hurry, after my professional duties were over for the summer, to humbly ask for your collaboration.”

My hand tightened around Ivantie’s. My breath became short and tensed, as I waited for Marilena’s reaction. She remained pensive for a long moment. Then, she asked, “What exactly is Dumbledore expecting from us?”

“More or less the same as last time. Mostly spying activities, for the moment. Your skills at watching nightly activities had been most precious to the Order. This time, however, we fear that your tactic abilities would also be required. We are under the impression that last weeks’ events were only a glimpse of what is coming. More pessimistic wizards will say that the war is imminent. My feel is that we should expect it to take place in the coming year.”

“Basically, you need soldiers to fight at your side,” she summarized.

“More than that, Lady Marilena. I am perfectly aware that, despite all the efforts the Order could make in recruiting new allies, some clans will either remain out of our reach or fall under the Dark Lord’s influence. With that in mind, it becomes obvious that we also need defence training, specialized to your kind.”

“I see,” she simply said. “Why come to us first, Professor Snape?”

“Given the valuable help your clan has provided to the Order in the past, we assumed that your feelings are quite favourable to our cause.”

“I guess you can assume such a thing, when you base your conclusions on these elements only. But time passes, Professor. I admit I have received quite... distressing reports about some of your activities in the Order, during the seventies.”

“Such as, Lady?”

“I have been told, notably by Niculaie there, and by several others, about the way you treat werewolves in your group. I heard that, not only were they allowed to freely wander amongst the population, but also that you had admitted one as a member of the Order! I wonder, Professor Snape, what that kind of attitude should tell me about your people,” she said, very suspiciously.

“Your Ladyship must understand that werewolves, though despised and rejected by most of the Magical population in England, are still protected by certain laws. Nevertheless, some new legislation have restricted their activities a bit tighter during the last two years, thanks to a very competent Minister.”

“Yes, yes... but what about its presence in the Order?”

“Albus Dumbledore has known that particular werewolf for decades and he seems to trust him. Though I am in no position to negotiate his place in the Order – and maybe you should discuss the matter with Dumbledore - I can say, nevertheless, that his presence among us has not caused any problem so far.”

And that was a lie! I felt and saw it, right then! That lycanthropic had caused considerable commotion, and more than once. Flashes kept hitting my thoughts, very briefly, but enough to see that he was not totally under control. Marilena looked at me, silently asking my advice and I quickly raised an eyebrow to make her understand my doubts.

“Even if this is true, Professor,” she said, “could we, at least, agree that the cainites I send to the Order would not have to endure such an insufferable presence and sight? I am sure I do not have to inform you nor Dumbledore that our mutual hatred dates back to the beginnings of civilization.”

My hand clutched Ivantie’s once again. I kept my jaws tightly closed, trying to stop the sudden urge I felt to bare my teeth and growl. I already felt my canines grow and my eyes slowly turn to a fiery red. I could have made my voice raise like thunder in that silent assembly, but I knew better. Instead, I shifted position on my chair, uncomfortably. As I started tapping my foot very lightly on the floor, I saw Marilena look at me with an evil smile. Snape was also looking at me, but more discreetly, from the corner of his dark eyes, his arms crossed over his chest.

I knew my whole body was screaming my anger, but I could not help it. Our mutual hatred!!! They hated us only because our kind had been persecuting them for ages! She knew perfectly well that this clan was particularly known for its hatred towards werewolves, and she had worked hard to gain that reputation. Still, not every one of us shared her opinion. Snape ended my train of thought, “I can assure you, Lady Marilena, that the Order would do its best to accommodate your emissaries to a full extent.”

“That is one thing,” she said, apparently satisfied that the wizard seemed to be on her side, “but I need to know what benefits our clan would find in such a collaboration. The Dark Lord seems dangerous, I concede that, but the range of his actions still seems quite limited to me.”

Snape took his time to answer. He kept his eyes riveted in Marilena’s, as if he was debating with himself about what arguments he would use. He finally talked in a low, calm, ominous yet silky voice that vibrated in every fibre of my body.

“With all due respect, your Ladyship, you are quite mistaken. We live in a world where the strong will always take advantage of the weak in order to, first, survive and then, to gain power. The Dark Lord had established quite a large web of collaborators all over Europe even before his defeat. He had carefully chosen his allies so they would be capable enough to serve his purpose, but inferior enough so he would be able to control them with his most formidable arm: fear. The Dark Lord does not threaten with death; if he did, the extent of his power would not be so great. He has that capacity to sneak in each and every corner of somebody’s mind, so that every way leading away from him seems to be a dead end. And in these dead ends, Lady Marilena, you know that you will never find the liberation of death. All that can be found there is endless suffering, indefinite but always haunting your thoughts as an ever-present threat. He becomes the only answer, the only possible Master to be served. Even if he has been absent for many years, the Mark he has left on all his followers, whether it has been carved in flesh or in souls, is only waiting to be refreshed. He has already begun to secretly sneak back into his old familiar places all over Europe. And all over Europe, the obedient reply is beginning to be heard.”

“And you have heard it too, Antanasia...” said his voice, from the depths of my heart.

I gasped, but kept looking at him, as he continued to speak to our group.

“Soon, this low and discreet murmur will amplify and become a voice. That voice is about to reach your doors and windows. The only reason why the Dark Lord’s activities have been more reported in England is because he has always preferred to live there. But the Dark Lord has already expanded his influence far beyond, like an uncured cancer. You will not be able to remain neutral for long. This disease will touch all of us sooner or later and you will be forced to take sides. My coming here gives you the opportunity to choose your side in advance and fight for a just cause. So I ask you: what side will it be?”

A long silence followed Snape’s words. Everybody was lost in their own thoughts. I kept listening to my soul, in case the wizard’s voice would be heard there again. But nothing came. He was waiting.

“This surely demands some thinking,” said Marilena gravely. “You have stated your point very clearly, Professor Snape, and I suggest that we end the meeting here in order to let all this sink in and find its way towards wise conclusions. I do not want us to unnecessarily argue for hours over points that are too young in our minds to have a real value. As I said earlier, our kind does not tend to rush things and this occasion will be no different. We will meet here tomorrow evening, same time. In the meantime, Professor, if you will be kind enough to follow me; I am sure we will find something to entertain you for the rest of the night.”

Snape nodded respectfully. Everybody rose and slowly left the room, speaking to each other in low voices. As I walked towards the door with Ivantie, I heard Snape’s baritone voice in my mind again, “Eventually, I would like a word, if possible.”

“Certainly,” I replied, this time finding my way easily through what had been so very well guarded before. “With your skills, I guess you will be able to find me wherever I am in the castle.”

“Believe me, I will,” he simply said.

AUTHOR’S NOTES
I hope you are enjoying the story so far! I would really appreciate some reviews. It does not take much of your time and it tells me if you like where the story is going or not! It’s in your best interest, in a way! Writing 25-30 pages every week represents a lot of work; your comments are a valuable reward! :o)

FOOTNOTES
A fledgling is a young, newly created kindred. Source : Darkness unveiled, http://phrozen-neon.com/vampire/index.html.

A vessel is a potential or past source of blood, typically a human. Source : Darkness unveiled, http://phrozen-neon.com/vampire/index.html.