Page 95 of Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines

Phoenix’s face remained unreadable, his voice soft and enigmatic. “I don’t know. But I suspect your father’s weakening is affecting us all. If his Draca dies, we all die with him. That is Julia Brown curse, but not the law of the realm. The Supreme Draquria could take Lucio, and we could become his magistrates. The only cure is the women, and we have little time to debate it. Go and leave Raven and me to our duty.”

Domencio glanced at Raven, who simply shrugged, and offered no comfort.

With a nod, Domencio walked out. The chill of uncertainty clung to him like a second skin. He tried to connect with Shakespeare once more, but the void that met him was as coldand empty as the grave. For the first time in centuries, a sliver of fear pierced his barren heart.

As Domencio’s footsteps faded, Phoenix allowed a faint smile to play over his lips.

Chapter 39

Beneath the Vatican Necropolis

Vatican City

Rome Italy

April 19, 1926 (Julia Brown)

Deepwithin the bowels of the ancient Vatican Necropolis, where sunlight never touched. A labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers sprawled like the roots of an ancient tree.

Hidden from the prying eyes of the living world, this subterranean fortress housed secrets older than Rome itself. Here, the Supreme Vampire, Vittorio Di Salvo, lived—a relic from a time when the Senate of Rome was not merely a council of men but a covenant of darkness, bound by a pact with the Draca, a primordial force that had given them their eternal curse.

Phoenix entered the chamber with the silent grace of a predator. His green eyes, vibrant against the dim light of the torch-lit cavern, scanned the surroundings with practiced vigilance. His red hair, a stark contrast to the darkness, framed his angular face, lending him an almost ethereal appearance. Ithad been centuries since he’d been forced into this existence—a young Celt, captured by the Romans and dragged from his homeland in the north to serve as a gladiator in Rome’s blood-soaked arena.

His ferocity in battle had caught the eye of a Roman Senator, one of the elite few who had already embraced the curse of the Draca. He named him ‘The Phoenix’. Soon after the Senator’s admiration turned to obsession, and he raped him repeatedly.

The Senate, or as it was once known in those ancient days,Senatus Vampyricus, had been searching for powerful souls to turn, and Phoenix had been filled with rage over his subjugation. He wanted revenge. He wanted to be chosen—whether by fate or misfortune, he had never been sure, but that single wish was granted.

A curse that had led him to the love of his life Aries. And then his fated introduction to Vittorio, the most feared and revered of the Roman vampires. Vittorio had once been a Senator himself, a man of power and influence, who had willingly embraced the curse to secure his place as a ruler not just of men, but of the night itself. He too saw something in Phoenix and seduced him with power that ultimately made him turn against the one person he’d ever love and join the great war at Vittorio’s side.

Phoenix’s footsteps echoed through the hollow chamber as he approached the dais where Vittorio sat, reclined on a throne of black marble. The air was thick with the scent of ancient stone and decay. It mingled with the faintest hint of blood. Vittorio’s dark eyes, as cold and deep as the night, glowered with mild interest as Phoenix approached. His alabaster skin seemed almost translucent in the dim light, his long, black hair cascading down his shoulders like a waterfall of shadows.

“Magistrato,” Vittorio’s voice was smooth, almost lazy as if centuries of existence had drained him of the need for haste.“You return from the New World. What news do you bring me of these… Americas?”

Phoenix bowed low, his hatred for the creature before him well concealed beneath the mask of obedience he had worn for centuries. “Signore, the New World offers vast territories ripe for our influence. The Southern region, in particular, is rich in both land and… pleasure. The cities of Savannah and Charleston are gateways to plantations that stretch across rolling hills and fertile valleys, where thousands toil under the yoke of servitude. The land is bountiful, and the blood of those who are enslaved is rich with pain and suffering.”

Vittorio’s interest barely shifted. “Il Sud…” he mused, his voice trailed off as if the very notion bore him. “Plantations, slaves, toil—nothing we haven’t seen before.”

Phoenix’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “True,Signore. But there is more. Louisiana.”

At the mention of Louisiana, Vittorio’s gaze sharpened his full attention now on Phoenix. “Continue.”

Phoenix stepped closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper, though the cavernous chamber would have carried every word to its master’s ears. “I encountered a group in the swamps near Manchac. Slaves, but not ordinary ones. They aretruedescendants of the First People.”

The reaction was immediate and vicious. Vittorio’s eyes flared with an unnatural light, his hand gripped the arm of his throne with such force that the marble cracked beneath his fingers. “The First People don’t exist.” His voice was a growl. Ancient rage simmered beneath the surface.

Phoenix nodded slowly, careful to maintain his composure. “They have survived,Signore. They traveled from the coasts of Africa to Haiti, and from Haiti to Louisiana. They possess powers of the realm. And among them, they have birthed another. A Chosen One. I have reason to believe they areattempting to escape to Texas, to seek refuge, and to engage the coven you have left there. They are looking to wage a new war. To increase their numbers. To defeat you.”

Vittorio’s fury was palpable, his dark energy from the Draquria itself filled the chamber. “I vowed to erase them from this world,” he hissed like a serpent, his voice dripped with venom. “Their kind is an affront to the darkness that rules. How dare they still breathe?”

“Melanin. It comes from the universe. And as long as those who carry the trait breathe on this realm, you will always encounter a Chosen to reclaim what was lost.”

Vittorio fell silent. Phoenix watched the display of anger with detached calm, though inwardly, he relished it. Vittorio’s obsession with the First People was his weakness—a hatred so deep it blinded him. And for Phoenix, this was his one and only opportunity.

“Texas, then,” Vittorio said. He rose from his throne with a fluid grace that belied his age. “We will begin there. We will crush them, and this Chosen One, if she exists, will be the first to fall.”

Phoenix inclined his head, hiding his satisfaction. “As you wish,Signore.”

As Vittorio turned away, lost in his dark thoughts, Phoenix’s mind churned. The First People had evaded the clutches of the most powerful vampire in existence, and that alone made them worthy of his interest. But it was not just their survival that intrigued him—it was Julia. The slave girl in the swamp, the one who reminded him so much of his lost guardian, of the love he had once known and destroyed with his own hands under Vittorio’s command.

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