A short story by Cori Lark
“Four hundred years. Do you realize I have walked this earth sampling the blood of, what is that, seven, eight generations?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Ambrus. “We have had some good times.”
Terah poured himself some Bordeaux. Holding the goblet in his hands, his long fingernails clicking on the brass, he continued, “But I am bored, my friend. Are not you?”
Ambrus walked to the other side of the table and removed his violin from the red velvet-lined case. “Shall I play for you?” he asked.
Terah sipped his wine, not hearing the question. He paced the marble floor of the cold dining room. “The taste of these humans, they are so . . . so weak, especially the virgins. They sure got that wrong in their movies. They are as weak as this wine.”
“I rather like the wine.” Ambrus plucked the strings and adjusted the pegs, tuning the instrument. “Besides, my lord, in this wicked twenty-first century they will become more evil, sweeter, and they’ll make us stronger still.”
“No. You are wrong. There has always been tasty bad blood.”
Ambrus let out a short sigh and returned the violin to the case.
Terah continued, “The wicked are simply more available now.” He walked to the sofa. “And those virtuous victims, as sour as they are, they are not as dissatisfying as the rodents.” He walked toward Ambrus who stood near the dining room table. “But none of it is enough.” He finished his wine and handed the cup to Ambrus.
“What would you like my lord, shall I bring home a politician?” He asked, fetching the wine bottle. He poured another goblet full.
Terah grabbed the drink and continued pacing the room. Back and forth, taking sip after sip. “I have it!” he exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. “That witch, do you remember her? She was the best drink I’d ever enjoyed. And I felt so new, as young and as in tune as I had been when I was first embraced.
“I do not understand,” said Ambrus. “That witch, she was nowhere near as wretched as many others.”
“Exactly. She was better. But why? If she was such a good human, why did she not turn my taste buds sour and send those putrid tingles through my fangs? She was so, so—Oh, and the strength I’d felt—it is with me no longer, and I want it back!”
Ambrus’s lips curled into a grin. His wide eyes reflected a curious vision.
“What is it?” Terah approached his companion, asking again, “What?”
“She was human, but she was also a witch, a hereditary witch as well; perhaps that changes things, my lord.”
Terah unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. “Yes, yes.” He began pacing the room again. “People taste better than rodents, witches taste better than people, therefore . . .”
“We must find more witches!” Ambrus was hungry, he hated it at times, but he was not human.
“No,” replied Terah. “We can do better still. The witch’s book, we kept it . . . Where did I put it?”
“I believe it’s in the library with your other books.”
“No, no no. I hid it.”
“Why?”
“Does that really matter? Now, shut up and let me think. For some reason I didn’t want it in the library, so I think, I think it’s in the stairwell. I hid it underneath the bottom step.”
“I will get it for you at once. Which stairwell?”
“The one in the library.”
Ambrus walked to the stairwell. He wondered if there might be a way for him to find something different for himself, something new.
After removing the bottom board, he pulled out a large book. A pewter amulet, shaped like a sun wheel, centered the black leather cover. He thought it strange . . . and he felt a touch of hope.
Terah paged through the papyrus, “Look here,” he said, tapping his fingernail on a page.
“The Temptress,” Ambrus read the heading. “She is a spirit. But she lived many lives before her becoming. She danced on the southeastern coast of India. She lived for a time in Hangchow, during the Ming Dynasty. She sculpted cosmetic palettes in Egypt, and she was once a queen in a land unknown.”
“Skip that part,” said Terah.
“Her name is Calandra DaVaki. It says here that she is worshipped by many, even the blind, who, having kissed her ruby lips and, seeing light once more, are forever entranced with the image of she burned into their hearts.”
“She is powerful. That is good. Okay, read on, skip ahead if you have to.”
Ambrus closed his eyes for a moment, rolled them inside his head, and opened them to the page once again. “She can be summoned when one needs a muse in the bedroom. She sounds perfect, my lord.”
“Indeed. Even tastier than the witch.”
“What do we do now, my lord.”
“We must summon her of course.”
“It must be during a full moon.”
“Tomorrow night. Come, Ambrus, the sun will rise soon. Let us get some heavy rest.”
After Terah had encased himself in darkness, Ambrus rose. He still had an hour until dawn. He walked upstairs, poured himself a cup of Terah’s wine, and opened the witch’s book. The summoning looked very simple, and he thought he and Terah could improve it as well. “But what is this?” he wondered, reading on, “However, the summoner will pay a price for the Tempress’s ferocious graces, a gift of her (or his) choice. If Calandra likes the gift, the wish may be granted and she may be summoned twice more. But if she dislikes the gift, the summoner may meet her (or his) doom.”
Ambrus closed his eyes as he closed the book. “A gift,” he said to himself. “A gift, what gift?” he pondered. “What gift shall I give? Give—give everything. Give to her all that is you.”
He went to wash his cup clean and returned to the cellar for his day’s rest.
Terah awoke slightly after dusk. “Soon,” he thought. He hissed and howled, then whispered, “I will have the best meal of my immortal life.”
Ambrus was already up, dressed in his usual black cloak. “Did you rest well, my lord?”
“Splendidly. I have a large appetite this evening.”
“Shall we begin our hunt immediately?”
“We will not be hunting at all this night. We are summoning. As soon as it’s dark, go to the book and prepare for the summoning ritual—I can taste her already.” He walked to his closet and donned a resplendent, blue satin coat. “I am the most elegantly clad immortal of the century.” He began combing his long dark hair.
“My lord, it has been decades since you wore yourself so fantastically. Our trip to Amsterdam right after we met, that was the last time I have seen you look as splendid as you do this evening.”
“Thank you, my friend. Perhaps I’ll have another portrait painted. It’s been about a hundred years.”
“The sun has set. After you.” Ambrus followed Terah up the stairwell and into the dining room.
“We should go into the night, my lord, beneath the full moon.”
“Of course. I know the perfect place.”
“You will need your dagger,” Ambrus instructed.
“I am glad I had that large meal last night, even though it practically poisoned my taste buds.”
“Yes. That was a sour slumber party. But they were so quiet, willing.”
“They were asleep, except that big spicy one, but she was speechless. She enjoyed my stare; she was completely entranced.
“Okay, let us go to the clearing. Bring the book.” Terah walked to the doorway in the rear of the dining room, grabbing his dagger from the wall where it hung and placing it in his coat pocket on his way out.
The night was calm. Beneath the full moon, Terah’s eyes revealed greedy eagerness, possessed by hunger.
“You must light a fire, my lord. The book says to use a candle, but a small fire will be better still.”
Terah gathered some wood and knelt beside it. Over the pile of sticks, he snapped his fingers, his nails clicking sparks. The dry bark ignited, and from within the evergreen smoke, a flame grew. The pile glowed. Terah stood.
“Walk around the flame. Call her name. Do this thrice.”
Terah took his steps, paused. “Calandra DaVaki, I need you, Temptress. Come to me.” The fire blazed. Terah stepped on, around the flames. He circled twice more calling “Calandra DaVaki, come to me” each time.
“Face the fire, face the west. Use your dagger.”
Terah took another step and faced the flame as it hissed and snapped. He withdrew his dagger. A figure of a bat was skillfully hidden within the workmanship of the hilt along with two small rubies as the eyes. He gently stroked the blade with his fingertips. The gleaming metal did not reflect the clawing fingertips curled around the sharp edges.
As Ambrus read from the book, Terah, did what was necessary for the summoning. Using the tip of the blade, he drew a line down his palm, guiding it toward his wrist. He held his arm over the flame. Firmly pressing, puncturing his pale flesh, he cut up his arm. Blood dripped into the flames.
“Calandra DaVaki, I summon you. Come to me, Terah.”
The fire danced higher. “This is it,” thought Ambrus, “freedom may finally become.”
A brilliant creature with wings, silver as the moon’s rays, hovered above the earth up the path between the woods. The fire dwindled to an orange glow. Terah and Ambrus looked at each other, speechless, fascinated by what they saw. The figure knelt down, beneath the moon. She lowered her head of blond curls and wrapped her wings down around her, feathers completely covering her in a soft whiteness. Gradually, a golden light radiated from the white cloud of her being, lighting up the surrounding forest. It became so bright that Terah and Ambrus had to look away. When the light dimmed, they opened their eyes.
The temptress scintillated a myriad of golden tones, glowing flesh of a pagan woman. She had transformed, metamorphosed. Her wings were no more, her golden curls had become straight, dark drapes of silk. Her black dress cut low, revealing four marks forming a pyramid upon her breast, over her heart. She wore an amber scarf tied around her neck. Her calm eyes scanned the atmosphere. She walked toward Terah.
Ambrus felt each glide of her step, each sweep of her hip, wanting to feel each breath she took.
Terah bolted at the Temptress, fangs shining off the moonlight, his blue coat rising into a dark, wavy train. He flew to her. He crashed, sprawled at her feet.
Liquid fire sizzled within Calandra’s eyes. She slowly lifted her arm and pointed at Terah. “You earthbound fool!”
Terah sat up, his arms wobbling from weakness.
A white light streamed from her fingertips. “Your thirst for blood will turn into lust,” she announced. “A compulsive desire for sex will cause you to always need. But you will never receive.”
Calandra then smacked her palms together, her golden rings flashing red and orange sparks as she forcefully rubbed them back and forth over each other causing a glowing friction that formed a blending stream of red hues into a ball of light. She threw it at Terah. The force pushed him back across the earth as it dissolved into his gut.
“Forever limp you shrew little wimp!”
Terah stood, facing the Temptress. “You are the shrew,” he said, slowly walking toward her. He looked into Calandra’s crimson eyes. They stared at each other with intense might. Terah’s legs weakened. Sliding down her protective barrier, he again rested at her feet.
“Do not try to fight me. You will lose. You will walk out of this forest,” she said, waving her right arm toward the woods, “and this manor,” she continued with a wave of her left arm, “never to return.”
Ambrus wanted to smile, wanted to dance and holler, “I am free, finally free of my lord. I have never seen him so pathetic!” Instead, he stood motionless, as if watching a film.
The Temptress took a step back and knelt near Terah, her hair draped over her shoulders past her breasts. “Listen to me carefully, you arrogant fool. After you leave here, you are never to return. You will live by the kisses of love upon your cheek else you slowly lose your mind.”
Terah whispered something.
“What is it you say? Speak up, cursed one.”
“Will I remain immortal?” he asked.
“You were a wicked animal of the night. I will not wish upon you the blessing of death. Yes, you will continue to roam this earth immortal, but now you may do so during the day as well. Day and night you will lust without being able to touch, without being able to gush.” She laughed lightly. “However,” she continued, “you may become human and die as humans do in which case the curse will be broken.”
She stood.
Terah looked up at the Temptress. “How?”
“You must fall in love, truly in love. Now, leave this place immediately. I’m tired of looking at you. Your change will occur at sunrise. I’m doing you a favor, allowing you to walk under the sun. Now, no more questions. Go.”
Terah flew off into the night, leaving his dagger in the dirt near the flames.
Calandra turned to Ambrus. “Who are you?”
“My name is Wolfgang Ambrus.”
“Tell me, sir, what are you? I cannot read you as easily as that wretched creature.”
“I am a vampire, like my lord. I have walked the earth for three hundred years.”
“That idiot monster, he was your master?”
“Yes, my lord, my father, he embraced me into this existence.”
Calandra stepped toward Ambrus. “But you are different than he. You could have left with him. Yet, you remain. That was a good choice.”
“When you turned his bloodlust into sexual lust I felt a release from our bond. But, truly, I have stayed for you.”
A howl cried through the forest.
Calandra sighed. “What is it you seek, then?”
Ambrus put his palms together in the praying position. His eyes showed youth not present for a long time. “You are like a Goddess.”
“Ah, I wish. No, I am no Goddess. Come now, tell me what you seek, I am a busy entity.”
“You have already given me something, my freedom. You have also given to others—such pleasure. You help love, create ecstasy, you teach the romance of each new age and tantric touch to euphoric pleasure,” he said. “I have read your Book of Shadows.”
“Be careful what you ask for.”
“Like I’ve said, you’ve already given me my freedom. I ask only to give you the pleasure you desire.”
Her eyes traveled down his cloak to his boots and back to his youthful blue eyes. She asked, “How could you know what pleases me?” Stepping forward, eye-to-eye with Ambrus, she asserted, “Your bite will not affect me.”
“I do not wish you harm.” He walked around the Tempress. “I have read much and lived much these long years.” His eyes caressed her silken curves. “I also think you are wonderful. Your power excites me.” He faced her again. “May I show you my gift?”
They were inches apart. “Do as you wish,” she whispered.
Ambrus gently caressed Calandra’s luxuriant neck with his palm. He kissed her softly first, then it became a mutual passion. “Come with me, then, into the mansion.”
Ambrus took Calandra’s hand, guiding her to rest on the sofa. He then went to his violin, which he always kept near the phonograph cabinet, and withdrew the bow from the case. After applying resin to the bow hairs, he delicately picked up the instrument. He placed the bow on the D-string and teased it back and forth, then danced on to the other strings.
Calandra sat comfortably on the sofa and smiled at him.
Ambrus’s youthful eyes became more focused, and his strong face became serious, his chin holding the violin as he stroked the long bow up and down across each string while adjusting the pegs. He then rested the instrument beneath his left arm and looked at Calandra, his eyes kissing her cheeks from where he stood, in the middle of the dining room, next to the table on which the violin case sat.
She smiled.
“George Frideric Handel wrote this opera a few years before I became what I am today. It is my favorite and I will enjoy sharing it with you.”
She nodded her head. Ambrus began with a strong melody.
The instrument sang of the affection he felt for the Temptress. Free and flexible rhythm flowed from the strings as his fingers breezed and popped. It seemed that Calandra was so taken away from what she was hearing. She began to levitate above the sofa cushion. Ambrus continued playing, pleased by her reaction. Soon, she joined Ambrus, her crystal voice blending smoothly with the tonal harmony. Ambrus had never heard a sound so pure and true.
“It is true,” she said after they finished their song. “You have pleased me. Your music is a beautiful gift. Thank you for sharing.”
Ambrus took her hand into his. “Allow me to extend my hospitality. I have much more to show you.”
Knowing things wouldn’t go as well in his cellar coffin, Ambrus chose to take Calandra into Terah’s private chambers on the second floor.
Green velvet curtains hung from the windows. A mule cabinet, with a globe and an emerald vase on top, rested in the corner. A large iron sconce hung on the wall, the candle wax dried frozen in time. Ambrus lit the candles.
The bed sat in the middle of the room surrounded by translucent netting. Calandra removed her scarf. She pulled her dress straps down her bronze shoulders, candlelight dancing across her skin as she slid the garment down along her curves to spread like a black silken puddle on the gray, tiled floor.
Ambrus stepped toward her. The light rippled across her miraculous flesh. “You are the most lovely creature I have ever seen,” he said. “I want for you to enjoy freely.”
Soon the room became a vortex of sexual pleasure. Calandra’s crystal voice sang sweet moans of euphoric orgasm.
Calandra walked around the fire pit. The embers were dimming.
“You, Ambrus, have been wonderful. I would like to grant you a wish. You do not need help in the bedroom,” she smiled, and it sounded like she let out a short giggle. She continued, “So, choose any wish and I will try my best to grant it.”
He held her hands in his. “Thank you, Temptress.”
“Please, call me Calandra.”
“Calandra, I wish to remain as I am, but I do not want this wretched hunger for blood.”
The silver moon reflected off a shiny object near the fire, Terah’s dagger. Calandra knelt next to the dying embers. She rubbed her hands together and closed her eyes. The embers grew, glowing into a flame. She then picked up the dagger. Holding the blade over the flames, she turned it as it darkened to black. Using a few various large leaves, Calandra wiped the black soot off from the metal. She held the dagger close to her chest with both hands covering the ruby-eyed hilt.
Ambrus heard her mumbling something he did not understand. She chanted a strange language. Calandra then rose to her feet and glided toward Ambrus. She held the dagger out for him to take.
“Keep this with you. It will give you luck.”
Ambrus knelt before her, holding the dagger close to his chest as she had.
She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You will remain immortal with six senses times three.” An eastern wind blew in and circled around them. “You will never again be bloodthirsty. And Ambrus, dear, you may call on me thrice to grant you whatever it is you seek, for this was not your summoning, it was Terah’s. Please, call me soon.” She lifted her arms up into the wind. He stood, and she willed him closer and kissed his cheek.
And then she was gone.
Ambrus looked at the pile of ash left from the fire. The hunger was gone, replaced by a new feeling, that of peace.
The End
From Electric Ink © 2003 by Cori Lark. All rights reserved.
Photo by Tracy
