Page 8 of Princess Broken

A long table stretches through the newly exposed room, surrounded by chairs. The table, made of dark, highly polished wood, appears to be at least forty feet long, and small lights sit at intervals along its surface. One in front of each chair, they cast ghostly circles on the polished table’s surface.

The walls have a series of arches, which appear red at first glance, but I quickly realize they’re lit with recessed red lighting.

A single vampire sits at the far end of the long table. Mariano I presume. He’s lit from above and the shadows lend his features a hideous appearance. Four massive vampires stand behind him, two at each side.

I thought the guards I’d brought were intimidating, but these four vampires give me chills, statues hewn from rage and muscle.

Using my night vision to enhance the dim lighting, I realize it’s not just the overhead lighting that makes Mariano’s features seem hideous.

He stands, leaning heavily on the table toward us. He’s big, but not tall. Either that or his four bodyguards are excessively tall. I quickly realize that both things are true. Mariano is about five foot seven, and his guards are a foot taller than that.

The guards stand with legs widely spread, their thickly muscled arms folded across broad chests. Perfectly still, all four men are dressed in long-sleeved black t-shirts and dark jeans that do little to disguise their massive, sculpted and clearly powerful bodies underneath. My guards’ weapons are hidden, but I can’t imagine where these four could be hiding weapons under their form fitting clothing.

But I assume they have weapons concealed about the room.

In some ways the four guards could be identical quadruplets, more like clones, but some features differentiate them. The features I can make out, anyway under their dark glasses and black, baseball-style caps that shadow their faces.

“Welcome, Anastasia,” the heavy vampire at the head of the table says. “Sit.”

Timur steps up beside me. “You will refer to her as: Her Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia.”

I hold up my hand. “Anastasia is fine. I assume you are Mr. Mariano?”

“Not only cute.” Mariano grunts. “She’s got brains too.”

I swallow my ire. Anger will be of no use in this meeting.

Timur pulls out the chair for me. I step in front of it, but remain standing. Timur stays close. Far enough to send the message that I am in charge, and yet let me feel his comforting presence. Whatever would I do without him? Gratitude rushes through me that Timur still intends to serve me, even given my rejection of his love.

“So?” Mariano lifts his chin. “You requested this meeting. What the fuck can I do for you, little lady?”

Mariano’s face is pudgy and pock marked, under his nearly bald scalp, and his nose was clearly broken at least once back when he was human. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his fifties when he became a vampire. And given that the transition from human to vampire enhances a person’s appearance, I shudder to think what this man looked like before he was turned.

My security detail fans out. Three stay behind Timur and me, and three move to each side of the table, spacing themselves about four feet apart, facing toward the four massive Mariano guards at the table’s end.

“That’s far enough!” Mariano barks.

My guards had stopped moving well before Mariano spoke, but none of them reacts to his threatening tone, all remain stiff and ready, their left hands tense around the handles of their briefcases.

“As you know,” I say as firmly as I can, “the vampire known as Octavia Puglisi committed several crimes during her tenure at DEFTA, crimes to which she has now pled guilty.”

“Cunt.” Mariano grunts.

Timur leaps onto the table. “Apologize to Her Highness!”

Mariano’s four guards shift. Their movements are barely perceptible, but somehow they now seem even bigger, even more intimidating. Physical danger wafts toward me. The one on the far end lights a match, seeming to strike it on the skin of his palm, and then he lets it burn until it fizzles out at his fingertip, leaving the faint scent of burnt skin.

In the hands of another, this guard’s act might come off like a magic trick, but in his, it’s a clear threat.

Leaning back, Mariano laughs. “Don’t get your skivvies in a twist, A-rab.” He says the last word to Timur, like an insult. “I wasn’t calling your princess a cunt. She might be one too, but I meant Octavia.” His eyes narrow. “Although I do have Octavia to thank for this—” he gestures around the room “—not to mention my immortality and taste for blood.” He parts his lips, revealing his fangs.

Reaching up, I touch Timur’s leg. He glances toward me, and I gesture with my head for him to come down off the table. He leaps down, landing without a sound beside me.

“Was Octavia your Maker?” I ask Mariano.

He flips his thick fingers. “If you mean, did that cunt turn me into a vampire, then yeah, she did.”

This is an interesting development that wasn’t in the background materials provided by DEFTA. They did tell me that the Mariano crime family were rivals of Octavia’s human father’s, back in the 1920’s. If she was his Maker, it better explains why he and Octavia formed an alliance.

---