1886
Inside the theater, Ivan watched Violetta and her crew steadily grow more and more intoxicated from the liquor found in the manager's office. Now that he was inside, he could smell the scents of two of the younglings he'd been looking for: his Tasha and Julien's bitch. He relaxed behind the modest desk and perused the many documents that lay in neat piles but found nothing to interest him. There was nothing to indicate an address other than the theater but he knew they weren't sleeping here. Their scents were too faint except in certain areas that were related to the function of the theater. The sound of glass breaking pulled him from his thoughts and he watched the last man pass out in an undignified slump leaving only himself and Violetta conscious. It took a great effort on his part not to curl his lip in disgust when she sauntered up to him while removing each layer of clothing with a lustful gleam in her eye.
"Monsieur Ivan…you've refused payment for your help tonight but perhaps you might take payment of another sort?" Her chemise was the last item to drift from her body to the floor and she moved between him and the desk, leaning back to bring her bare breasts into prominence. "I can think of many ways to thank you, monsieur."
"I bet you can." Grabbing her arms, he pulled her onto his lap abruptly causing her to give a startled shriek before she molded her body against his. "However…I had my own reasons for helping you and require a rather unique form of payment."
Wrapping a hand in her hair, Ivan yanked her head back harshly to bare her throat. Seeing his red eyes and lengthening fangs, Violetta tried desperately to move from his lap but he was far stronger than she. With a chuckle that nearly froze the blood in her veins, he forced her to her knees. "You're passable for a human; I might even wait until you come before I kill you. That will depend on how well you please me."
Yanking her close to his crotch, the former diva easily understood what he wanted from her right then and untied his trousers with shaking hands. As her mouth descended upon his cold, semi-hard member, Ivan brought one of her wrists to his mouth and bit harshly into the vein. Taking a long drink, he only partially healed the wound before doing the same to her other wrist. The smell of her fear mingled with the smell of her blood and he was hard instantly. Standing, he held her head as he savagely fucked her face without even checking to see if she could breathe between thrusts. Without warning, he pulled her mouth from him and tossed her carelessly onto the desk. Burying himself into her unready body, he laughed at her scream of pain. As he used her for his own pleasure, his mouth was everywhere: biting her breasts for a long pull of her pain and terror filled blood, running a sharpened fingernail up her leg to leave a crimson trail which he licked before sinking his fangs into her femoral artery, tearing a ragged gash into the tender skin on the inside of her elbow so her blood flowed onto her stomach where he lapped it up like an animal. Violetta could feel him abusing her body, could see the blood as it poured from more and more wounds, and hear the lewd sounds of his hips slapping against her naked flesh but she felt so detached from it all. She was cold and tired and her limbs felt oh so heavy. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed forever was the bloody lips of her rapist and killer mere seconds before he tore out her throat as he released himself into her body.
"Too bad you didn't enjoy yourself. It would have been the perfect opportunity to come and go at the same time." Hysterical laughter tinged with more than a little bit of madness echoed around the room as Ivan withdrew from the dead woman and adjusted himself back into his trousers. Licking his lips, he moved towards the incapacitated humans and drained each of their blood. Once all who'd seen him were dead, he opened a deep, jagged tear in Violetta's stomach and dipped a quill into the thick coppery liquid that trickled from the wound. The message he wrote was left pinned to her breast with a letter opener. Wiping his face with her chemise, Ivan left the theater with a spring in his step and a song on his lips. There was a sewer access less than a block from the theater; he could sleep there protected from the painful rays of the sun and return quickly once dusk fell.
xxxxx
Since the walk was not far from the townhouse to the Mystère, Erik, Christine, and the Marchesa decided against a hired carriage in the hopes of spotting Tatiana on her way home. As they approached the main entrance, Erik stopped the women from advancing. The door was slightly ajar. Christine could do little more than stare as her mate faded into the shadows and approached the entryway in utter silence. With a strange coil of thin rope in one hand, he eased the door open with the other just enough to squeeze through and get swallowed up by the darkness within. She moved to follow when a firm hand stopped her and she turned to see the Marchesa shake her head. Vampires they might be but they'd only prove to be a distraction to the masked man if there were hostiles inside. It seemed like hours yet barely fifteen minutes passed before Erik emerged from the theater.
"Mademoiselle Alekseyeva is not inside." He was quick to reassure his mate though reluctant to relay what he'd seen in the office. Taking her in his arms, he held her close to lend her strength as he relayed the gruesome scene he'd encountered. Against his wishes, both women demanded to see the office and, after several minutes of loud debate, he gave in with the caveat that he take the lead just in case the killer remained behind.
The smell of blood lingered in the air outside the office door like a tangible cloud and Christine could feel her body reacting to the intoxicating scent. With sheer force of will, she kept tight control over her fangs though she could do nothing about her eyes; their scarlet glow was a disturbing sight in the darkened theater. Opening the door, she was thrown back in time to her's and Julien's estate in Sweden, looking upon the savagely brutalized bodies of her staff. Fighting against her Hunger and her nausea at such a horrific sight, the youngling approached the mutilated body of the former diva in order to read the letter.
A present for the two ladies in my life.
To Tatiana…you should never have run from me and for that you will be punished. I will reclaim you soon, my pet, and show you how we were meant to be.
To Julien's little whore…enjoy looking over your shoulder, bitch, for it took me years to heal from your mate's unwarranted attack. To strike at his own kin on behalf of the cattle that worked in his home was unforgiveable. Soon, you'll wish it was you on that desk.
Ivan
"Do you know this Ivan, Christine?" Erik gestured towards the note, keeping a careful eye on the shadows in case the attacker returned.
Shaking her head, the petite vampire backed out of the office then ran out of the theater to breathe in the clean, fresh winter air. She didn't know the killer, not really, but she'd seen his handiwork once before just before Julien was taken from her forever. She never knew the two elders had been unsuccessful in destroying the insane rogue vampire. She had also been unaware that the brutal murders of her house staff in Sweden had been committed by Tasha's sire. It had just become increasingly important for her to find the youngling before the killer did. As Christine calmed herself and fought off the Hunger that still affected her when confronted with large amounts of human blood, Erik and the Marchesa emerged from the theater to check on her. Without looking their way, she told the story of the attack on the Rüb family who worked at their estate and how Julien had gone to destroy the rogue even though they both knew he would not be returning. When Erik gently wrapped his arms around her, she turned to clutch at him desperately fearing that somehow the rogue would take another mate from her and leave her all alone once more.
xxxxx
The sun was just beginning to rise as Tasha made her way back to the townhouse she shared with Christine but she paid it little attention. What was she going to do now that her mate had rejected her? She couldn't stay in Paris, that was a certainty, but was reluctant to return to her native Russia. A boy on the street corner near their home was calling out the headlines to that day's newspaper and it gave her pause. Buying the paper, she read of the trial of the bombers in Haymarket with interest. The United States seemed a rather hostile place, with red-skinned savage natives and earthquakes and riots; however, it was also a greater distance from Paris than her home country. Christine was happy in Paris now that her mate had accepted their bond and the two of them could run the Mystère far better than she ever could. There was nothing holding her in France. With a heavy heart, she climbed the stairs to the place she'd called home for so many years. It was time to pack.
Less than an hour later, Tasha emerged from the townhouse with a suitcase, a satchel that contained her packet of home earth and several small bags of blood, and several hundred francs she hoped to exchange once she'd landed in the New World. She'd left a letter for Christine explaining why she had to leave and that she'd write as soon as she'd secured lodgings in the United States. She'd thanked her friend for their years together and hoped she and Erik spent many years together as a happily bonded pair. She took one last look at her home before turning towards the train station. She assumed there would be trains going to the coast several times a day and she planned to take the first available in hopes of finding a ship to the US.