| "Vilona" |
| |
Abruptly she stopped swaying and her eyes popped open. In her start she dropped the rose from her hand to the cobble stoned terrace. Vilona swung her other foot over the edge of the hammock and walked to the open French doors that connected to her bedroom. Terror gripped her heart. She had not sensed ‘her’ for many generations. Vilona's mind raced back to the night she and her beloved Cameron were to be destroyed. The memory still ached, like a bruise on her soul that would not heal. They spared her because her name was not on the contract. Didn’t he realize that this was an even crueler punishment? Maybe he did. She was in fact, Cameron’s Sire. Didn’t that make her responsible? Vilona’s vision blurred with the mist of blood in her eyes. She blinked back the tears and recited her would be assassin’s words. “I can not kill you because you have shielded the humans and do not seek to rule in the Camarilla. Though you are Ventrue, you do not use humans as pawns. My master only bid me to rid us of Cameron. He killed one of her childer, and does not spare human life, these acts she will not forgive.” Clive’s contract had been fulfilled and Cameron was drained in a way that only the Assamite assassins know how to do. What Clive had done to her was a mystery. Her state of confusion was so complete that she had no memory of being transported to a land far away. The only memory she held to was that monstrous sight of Clive handing his master, Janni, Cameron’s ashes, and her pouring them into a goblet of blood and drinking them. Vilona thought back to the brief moments she spent in Janni’s presence. Vilona did not scare easily, but this woman was terrifying! Among the cruelly barked orders in a language Vilona did not understand, she presented warm loving embraces for those servants that stayed near her. The sheer elegance of her movements, she was royalty surely! She was terrifying only because in any other circumstances Vilona could have loved her, could have adored her as a sister. She could have listened to her silky voice for hours. There was an undeniable urge to reach out and stroke her gorgeous black hair, even during that time of extreme confusion, but this could never be. Vilona was repulsed that she could feel such a drawing to a person who had taken away the very heart of Vilona’s existence. To be left to live out her days without Cameron was an unkindness that she could not see past. How could this woman have such power over her. She could never love Janni, but … she did not hate her either. Janni had not laughed or mocked as an insane enemy might have. No, she knelt before Vilona and licked the blood from her cheek saying, “Your hurt was not my intent.” For a long moment they locked eyes and Vilona felt sure she was about to be killed. The thoughts that passed between them Vilona could not remember, if they had indeed shared thoughts. Then Janni’s voice changed from that honey whisper to one of deep conviction and threat, “but your torture will be my pleasure if you should seek revenge. Sleep now…and…” Vilona couldn’t remember the rest. It faded away like fog in the wind. She did sleep, for over 300 years. When she woke, Clive was lying beside her. His withered corpse a testimony that he had been put to sleep with her. She did not wake him. She left him in the sand cave. He was not someone she wished to share her life with. She wondered in the desert for months searching for animals to rebuild her strength… Surprising what you remember even after years of coming back from ‘death’. She would have to be more careful next time…she will direct her summons more discreetly. Maybe she would not summon any more at all. This was something she would need to think about more thoroughly. Vilona returned from her sad memories and peered around her small but luxurious townhouse. Relieved that it did not have the scent of Janni or Clive, she began to prepare for sunrise. “I wish no revenge my beautiful Assamite, but I do not wish to revisit my agony through your eyes…” Morning was coming. The shades were drawn and rest was needed. Vilona could not quiet her troubled thoughts. The strength, violence, and beauty of Janni were now to haunt her even in this thriving American city that Vilona had made her home. |