Chapter 2:
The cool night breeze blew through Rebeccah's long, loose curls. The long shear night-gown she wore clung dearly to her curves, her bare feet made their way across the barren waste that was once the city of her ancestors. The glorious city was now nothing more than grouped stones and rocks, as well as a few trinkets that hadn't yet been excavated by rogue vandals. Slowly, toe to heal – toe to heal – toe to heal, she walked toward the pier. It briefly entered her mind that this was wrong; the pier had long since given way to the elements. But, there it was standing as strong as it ever had, waiting for a great ship to dock and deliver fine goods from the Orient.
The beautiful vampire walked on as if being pulled by some unseen force. As she walked the ruins began to come alive. She could hear the street venders barking their wares, the laughter of kids playing, and the church bells ringing. She could smell fresh bread from the bakery mixed with horse droppings and dust from the main road. All around her were the sounds and aromas of life. As her delicate feet touched the boards of the pier, though, it changed. The life had turned to death. The heat from some unseen fire burnt her skin. The smell of flesh burning and of blood stung her nose and throat. She put her hands to her ears to drown out the sound of children screaming in pain. Tears fell freely from her green eyes. She felt helpless, hopeless, but still she didn't stop, never looked back.
Rebeccah reached the end of the pier, the tormenters stopped their teasing and all was still once more. She stood there in the moonlit night. She could taste the salt from the rough seas as it sprinkled across her tear streaked face. Her gown was plastered to her body; she couldn't tell if it was muggy sweat or water. Her hair was drenched and she was uncomfortably hot. By now she was sobbing. She wanted to jump, to kill herself, but she knew it was fruitless. She didn't know if she could die. God had damned her to walk the Earth alone while those she loved died around her.
"Rebeccah," the sound of her name startled her out of her pity. It was a familiar voice, a voice she hadn't heard in over a century. Rebeccah turned and screamed. There was her father, dead and burning. The skin of his outstretch arms were bubbling beneath the fire, he was writhing in agony.
"Can't you see that I am burning?"
Beccah sat up with a gasp. She listened to see if she had screamed. When no one came running, she sighed. Another dream, though this one was different. It seamed more real, not like a dream at all, not like the others. The bedding of the tent was soaked and she was sticky with sweat. She could hear Shame outside packing the horses. They weren't far from their destination, maybe another hour or so from the castle. She knew it was near dusk, but she knew the sun was still out. Her old adversary was calling to her, beckoning for her to step out and bathe herself in his splendid rays. She couldn't remember the last sunset she witnessed; it was so very long ago.
She laid back down in the cramped quarters, waiting till it was safe to emerge. It was comforting to listen to Shame piddle around, cooing pleasantries at the horses, giving out orders to the servants. She smiled as she thought about the side of the pirate that was reserved only for her. His beautiful smile, the way his eyes twinkled, the look on his face when he was in her, as he kissed her.
She was lost in reminiscences when Shame rapped on the tent.
"My Lady, it is almost the time to depart. I have your meal prepared and your dressings set out."
Without a word, the exquisite Lasombra climbed out of the tent and stretched. She looked around and saw one of the slave girls, one of her herd, sitting on large rock close to the fire that was starting to die. They brought only a handful of the servants with them on this trip, all of which were there for the sole purpose of sustaining her. She never killed them, only taking what she needed and no more. Shame would fixed them the smallest amount of belladonna mixed in hot tea to relax them so they would not be scared. She secretly liked the effects of the drug in their blood. It relaxed her as well and helped her to quickly forget the dreams of the day before.
Rebeccah sat close to the dazed servant and marveled at the girl's beauty. She was no more then 16, but already voluptuous and soft. Her pulse quicken with excitement as her mistress swept her blonde hair back and gently caressed her skin. Her liquid blue eyes closed as she felt the vampire's mouth kissed her neck and shoulder softly. The child only moan in pleasure as teeth sunk into her and Beccah started to drink.
Rebeccah had her fill in a few moments time, though feeding always felt as if it lasted forever. She released her hold and a few more servants came to take the girl away to be tended to. Relaxed and full, Beccah began to dress as Shame packed up the rest of their supplies.
'Shame, you know me too well,' she thought as she looked at the breeches and tunic he left for her. It was unheard of; a proper woman should never wear men's clothes, especially women of noble blood such as herself. Rebeccah had her proper dress, but she preferred beaches to petticoats when she traveled. It was easier to straddle a horse and to do what needs to be done. Petticoats and bustier were appropriate for dinners and handling affairs of the state, but they only get in the way on the road. Besides, it would irritate Aramile to see her dressed in such away, which amused her.
Within minutes, her locks were braid and she was dressed. Time was growing short and they were mere hours away from the Château de la Nuit and Aramile 'de Louise. Rebeccah mounted her mare and looked around to see if the servants and supplies were ready with the wagon. Shame sat upon his great steed and waited patiently for her to verify that things were in order. When all was accounted for, Beccah gave a nod and off they went. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Shame's stomach; something didn't feel right about all of this. He watched the beauty on the horse beside him out of the corner of his eye and secretly vowed to himself that if anything happened to her, anything at all, that insipid Tzimisce would pay with his life. Prince or no, he would pay.
Aramile paced the floor of his library. He knew his guests were waiting for him in the first floor ballroom. Everybody but her had arrived. She should have been here by now. He had the most important Kindred in the nation in his house right now and he was up here waiting for word on Rebeccah. If the council knew of this they would think him weak and he couldn't have that. Aramile could feel his ire rise up inside of him just as there was a knock at the door.
"Yes!" He barked.
"Sorry sire, but the last of your guests have arrived and the others are getting restless."
"En conclusion, it is about time," Aramile breathed a sigh of relief and straightened his dress robes and long blonde hair. "Montrez-la dedans – show her in," he ordered and waved for the servant to show her in. "Oh, and Michal, tell my illustrious benefactors I will be down shortly. Gardez couler de VIN et le jeu de musique - keep the wine flowing and the music playing."
Aramile's smile tightened as Rebeccah walked in with her pet pirate. She was dressed like a peasant and just as filthy. Her radiant hair was tightly braided and her crème skin was covered in dirt. To top it off, she smelled of a stable-hand.
Not wanting to touch her, but pleased to see her, he stepped back and smiled wider. "Mon Chéri, so glad you could join us." Never acknowledging Shame, Aramile clapped his hands for the servants and turned his attention back to Rebeccah. "I'm sure you are longing for a bath, I'll have one drawn for you. As for your attire," he remarked looking her up and down with disdain. "I will have something more fitting brought to you. I'm sorry, my love, but my guests are waiting for me. I trust your man-servant remembers where your rooms are. Don't be to long, you have many friends waiting and you wouldn't want to disappoint."
Then without waiting for a reply, or even a hello, he left them alone with the servants. "My, my, not much has changed," Rebeccah laughed. Shame just smile and muttered, "I will ready your room, my Lady, and set out your dressings," with that he was gone.
Looking at the servant girls, Beccah sighed, "Well I supposed we shouldn't dawdle, the mister wouldn't like that, would he." Anyway, she could use a hot bath and a warm drink. She made her way silently to the bathing area and wondered what she had gotten into. Uneasy vibes were in the air and you could cut the tension with a knife. Shaking away the bad sensation, she thought about the bath and how wonderful it would feel to be civilized again. It had been days since she felt like a lady. She would worry about her duty later, for now she would pamper herself.