Chapter Eighteen
The gentle touch of something wet made him jump as Peter heard someone hush him and he slowly opened his eyes. Blinking his eyes a few times, he smiled as Cassandra's face came into focus and she gently patted his face dry. The bruises were nearly gone and the bridge of his nose, lips and cheek had tiny scabs. He looked like he had walked into a door as she sweetly smiled at him and lifted his head, helping him drink something.
"Midori?" he asked after she placed his head down and nodded.
"After all you've been through, you deserve a drink," she teased as he softly laughed and she kissed his lips. She placed the glass on the night table then placed the flannel and towel on the floor and Peter carefully sat up, propping the pillow behind his back. Cassandra snuggled closer when she placed her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Right, I need to know a few things," he said as he held up his right hand and held up a finger. "One, where is the sword?"
"The sword and the portrait are over there," she said as he lifted his head and looked at the sword lying on top of the dresser.
"Two," he said, holding up a second finger. "He said that he wasn't after me. That means he was after you. So the question is why?"
"Well, see that black book?" she asked as he looked at the book with the black leather cover and nodded his head. "That's my family history. I was reading it while you were in the hospital and found out something about Constance. She wasn't practicing the Black Arts as much as she brought the Night Walkers, or vampires, into our family's life through her engagement to Giacomo. There wasn't much about what happened to her, but there is also a drawing of the sword.
Peter watched as she got up then walked to the dresser, picked up the book, walked back to bed and sat next to him. She placed the book on his lap when she opened the page she marked and he looked at the drawing.
"Three, what does the sword have to do with anything?" he asked and she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose.
"I looked that up," she said and flipped through the book until she found the other page she marked. "According to this, the sword was forged from pure silver and was blessed to destroy all things evil."
"You mean like vampires?" he asked and she nodded her head. He closed the book then placed it on the night table and she snuggled against him. She felt safe in his arms as she stroked the hair on his chest and he smiled at her. "Four, how the fuck did I not end up a puddle of goo on the ground after I fell of the roof?"
"Well, you have Cross to thank for that," she said and Peter looked at Cross, who was sitting on the headboard. He lifted his wrist as Cross hopped onto his wrist and Peter looked at the falcon. "I had gone back for the sword when I heard movement on the roof and walked to the window. Imagine my shock when you went flying off the roof. I let Cross fly and he caught you then brought you back into the room."
"He did?" Peter asked as he stroked Cross' chest and the falcon nodded its head. "Blimey."
"He can be anything that walks or flies," she said when Peter gave her a slightly shocked look and she frowned. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Peter said as he blinked his eyes and looked at Cross. "I just got the feeling you already told me that."
"No, I don't think so," she said as he sighed and scratched the top of his head, making his hair stand up on his head.
"Oh, I thought you had," Peter sighed and Cross titled its head to one side with a look in its eyes like it knew more than they did. Placing his head back after checking the time, Peter sighed and pinched his eyes closed with his finger and thumb. "Guess it's show time."
"Yep," she said as Peter leaned over and kissed her lips and Cross made a soft cooing sound.
The audience sat down as the lights were lowered and the blue lights lit up the stage. A fine smoky mist spread across the stage as eerie music started playing and a spot light shined on the pentagram hanging over the stage. The young woman slithered out of the fog as they hissed and the lights clicked on, showing them wearing the she-devil costumes. Their hair hung over their breasts as they hissed and the red lipstick the young women wore shimmered in the light. Cassandra was sitting on the floor near one of the fake rocks while she watched the young women slither and hiss at the audience when the eerie music flared and a bright flash of light nearly blinded her. The audience gasped when Peter appeared as if out of thin air and he glared at the young women huddled together at stage right then he slightly smiled at Cassandra and she barely nodded her head. She looked stunning in the blood red dress she was wearing and he turned around and looked down at his cock. To his relief, he wasn't showing how badly he wanted to rip his leather pants off and take her on the stage then he turned back to the audience and smiled.
"Well, guess you heard that I've been sick for the last few days, so I assure you that I am completely recovered. Well, my face looks like shit, but that's what happens when I try a trick without a fucking net!" he said and the audience laughed. Glaring at them, he waved his hands as the audience became quiet and Cassandra pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Peter had a talk with the young women about what happened with Darcy before the show and Peter held his arms out, looking at the audience. "So without further ado, welcome to Fright Night!"
London, England 1811
The carriage stopped near the marble stairs as the coachman hopped down then opened the door and Giacomo got out of the carriage. He helped Constance out of the carriage as they headed for the marble stairs and went up the stairs. Removing the key from the pocket of his waist coat, Giacomo opened the door when they went inside and he looked around. The house was deadly quiet as Constance gasped at the mutilated body of Kristina lying on the floor and Giacomo turned Constance toward him, placing her face against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding while her hands rested on his chest and he kissed the top of her head. After searching the downstairs, they found more bodies when he led Constance up the servants' stairs to the top floor and headed down the hallway. Stopping at the doors to his bed chamber, he opened the doors as Constance peered inside the room and looked at the dark oak bed with four posts and cream color bedding.
"This would have been our room," she heard him say as she looked at him and tilted her head to one side.
"Would have been?" she asked, wondering if he had changed his mind about marrying and he moved closer, sliding his arms around her and pulled her against him. "Are you changing your mind about marrying me?"
"What? No, of course I still want to marry you," he said with a slightly stunned look on his face and kissed her lips. "I just mean that we are not going to be living in this house."
"No, I guess we're not," she said with a nod of her head and he let go of her, heading down the hallway. Stopping at the doors to the main bed chamber, Giacomo sighed then softly prayed and placed his hands on the door handles. Constance stood next to him when Giacomo opened the door and walked into the room. The smell hit them first as they stood at the center of the room and Constance held her hand to her mouth. Slowly walking toward the bed, Giacomo felt the bile in his throat as he stood at the foot of the bed and looked at the mutilated body of his mother. The blood had soaked into the duvet while his mother lay at the center of the bed and something made him look up at the wall. YOUR SON IS NEXT was painted in blood on the wall over the bed as Constance walked to Giacomo and gasped.
"Come," he said softly as he held her to his side and they walked out of the room. The carriage moved down the path while Giacomo watched the house grow smaller in the distance then turned around and Constance slid into him. Wrapping his arm around her, he held her hand against his chest as he sighed and tears gently slid down his cheeks.
Gasping, Peter sat up on the bed as his heart slammed hard against his ribs and sweat rolled down his chest and back. Leaning against the pillow, he reached over and turned the light on. Moving the duvet back, Peter got up when he placed the black, silk robe on and shuffled toward the door. He had on his black, silk boxers as he tied the black, silk robe shut and opened the door. Heading down the stairs, he saw that the lights from the other hotels lit up the room as he shuffled toward the bar and walked around to the other side of the bar. Flicking the switch which turned the lights on, he leaned against the bar as he thought about the dream he had when he felt like a drink and pinched his eyes closed with his finger and thumb. He knew that the refrigerator was locked as he looked down and saw a pack of cigarillos and his silver lighter. Picking up the pack of cigarillos and the silver lighter, he walked to the window when he took out one of the cigarillos, placed the pack in the pocket of the black, silk robe and lit the cigarillo with the silver lighter. Placing the silver lighter in the pocket, Peter placed his lower arm against the glass as he puffed on the cigarillo and placed his forehead against his lower arm, tears gently rolling down his cheeks.
"Peter?" Cassandra asked as he turned around and looked at her standing half way down the stairs. She was barefoot and wearing a light blue nightshirt with a puppy dog on the front as he smiled and she walked down the stairs, heading toward him. Placing the cigarillo in his mouth, Peter walked closer as she stood near one of the high back chairs and he scratched the back of his neck. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," he said as he took the cigarillo out of his mouth and she stroked his cheek.
"Want me to make you some warm milk? It usually helps me when I can't sleep."
"Sounds good," Peter said then slid his arm around her waist and they headed for the kitchen.