Page 75 of Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines

“Yes, priest, a holy man who counseled vampires,” Phoenix chuckled.

“How do you know so much about me?” Tristan asked. He fell in step at the vampire’s side as they descended stone stairs that went so deep beneath the Vatican’s crypts that they had to be several miles long. The walls were lit by torches, and the air was dank, stale, rank with an old stench of something floral, rotting.

“I am Phoenix. I am the first. You are consiglieri, so you are my responsibility. Marcello has decided you are worthy of my time,” replied Phoenix.

“Marcello? Lucio’s brother?” Tristan asked.

“You’re learning. Not fast enough, priest, but you’re learning,” said Phoenix.

“Why did Lucio do this to me? Take from God and destroy sacred vows by turning me. Fed me to this devil dragon then curse me with possession? Why! I want to understand why. He does not explain himself. He doesn’t say anything to me now. Just keeps me trapped.”

“We all have a destiny. Lucio and Domencio have destroyed many men and women like you in their war. Marcello needshis brothers. And I serve Marcello. When Lucio finds the right consiglieri, he will be served well too. Simple,” said Phoenix.

“I’m not him,” Tristan said.

“He has decided that you are, and Don Vittorio agreed. Lucio’s selection of a priest this time may be the best choice for his destiny. He is a sensitive vampire. Out of the four, he is special.”

“I don’t agree,” mumbled Tristan.

Phoenix smirked. “No one asked for your agreement. Lucio lets you run and stumble through the night. It is Lucio’s weakness that he is impulsive and unable to manage the damage that he causes as a Master Vampire. It is your burden that you were selected. You are consiglieri. Padre Santiago is dead. You will live up to your promise or I will ensure you meet the true death you wish for. And you have no idea how creative and prolonged that death would be.”

There was no point in asking for any further explanation. Lucio had made him, then cast him aside. He just walked away. When Tristan fled. Lucio hunted him down and dropped him into his father’s lair and again walked away. It was far too confusing for Tristan to understand his curse. He never saw Don Vittorio in the old castle in Sicily, but he felt watched. And he hunted and wept over bodies for a year. Phoenix seemed disciplined, poised, and knowledgeable. And Phoenix had access to the crypts of the Vatican. A place he had heard of whispers of but never truly believed existed.

After the long walk, they arrived at a door that was already ajar. Phoenix entered. Several priests were up in the late hour. They stood and sat before tables with enormous books and candlelight. They read pages of weathered papers under microscopes. When Phoenix walked past them, they all lowered their gaze. None dared look at the vampire.

Tristan was led through the final door into a room he’d never envisioned existed. The large stone library had rows and rows of ancient scrolls on top of shelves that stretched so high they disappeared into the ceiling darkness. There were huge leather-bound tomes placed on tables. There was a chair and table that he could sit at.

He did not. How could he? Amongst the remnants of the black Madonna were treasures that had to be stolen from the heart of Africa. Gold, ivory, statues carved out of onyx, and precious metals. So much treasure his head swam. Portraits that were painted by artists. Beautiful women, warrior women from ancient times with skin of bronze and deepest shade of melanin.

“When Marcello was a boy, Don Vittorio gave him to me to train. He spent his rearing here, reading every book you see. While his brother Sebastiano played with animals, he caught, and Domenico and Lucio waged wars against each other. This is where Marcello was reared,” said Phoenix.

“I can’t believe this exists. There were rumors, but I can’t believe it.” Tristan replied.

“Have a seat, priest. Your lesson begins today,” said Phoenix.

“Who are they?” Tristan pointed up at two women who stood side by side in a portrait.

“Guardians,” Phoenix said. “That is the Protector of the Light. Her name is Liora. And the other one, she is The Defender of the Pain, her name is Kaida. They serve the mother of realms. The Chosen One. The true embodiment of darkness and light.”

Tristan stepped to the portrait and stared up at Liora’s beautiful face. “Is that her, or an artist's depiction of her? Did she really look… so beautiful?”

“She has visited this realm several times. The last time was during the fall of ancient Rome. The Senate of Master Vampires hunted and waged war for the Draca, and blood spilled for several centuries. All but Vittorio and a few of the servants to thedark were left. We hunted the Guardians and their First People. Then he took over the realm and gave it to the Draquria. So that painting is preserved from that time. And that is how the artist saw her before she fell.”

“She is magnificent,” Tristan said.

“Look away, baby vampire. Even staring into the eyes of that portrait, you fall under her spell,” Phoenix warned.

He could not look away.

“Resist!” Phoenix commanded.

The blast of energy that hit him fractured his skull. He grabbed his head and stumbled back. He looked up at Phoenix in horror.

“They say you will fall in love if you get close. Guardians are no more, but if they do return, you are to never touch them. Ever,” Phoenix warned.

“Why?” Tristan asked.

“Because if you do, she will become your mate. And mating with a guardian will be the death or permanent enslavement of your Draca. You don’t know hell like the hell of loving a woman who is superior to you.”

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