Scathe

  Scathe

  Chacelyn Pierce

  www.chacelynpierce.com

  © Copyright Chacelyn Pierce 2014

  Edited by Victoria Miller

  Cover Photo © Copyright Andrei Vishnyakov (Vishstudio)

  Cover Art © Copyright Chacelyn Pierce

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author/publisher

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband for his monumental support, this one is dedicated to you. I want to thank Victoria Miller for her editing expertise. Thanks for making this story shine. Last but not least, Andrei Vishnyakov aka Vishstudio, I bow to you and your gorgeous photos that I horde like candy. Thanks for creating masterpieces. And to you reader for wanting to read the story I thought was crazy enough to put down in words.

  Prologue

  "And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade."

  ― Alexander Pope

  1568 Venice, Italy

  At the sound of the first blast, Luciano peered at the vibrant lights blooming across the indigo sky. He clapped along with the rest of the people, but his genuine smile stayed hidden beneath the stuffy mask. The annual carnivals, the throngs of people and the light shows, held the taste of sin in the air. Magnificent. Venice felt alive this night and for what it was worth, he'd damned well enjoy it. Luciano swayed to the music, relishing in the wine-laced air as he walked the filling streets. It was a rare liberty to be among the humans. Something exciting would happen tonight; he could feel it surging through the air.

  Adjusting his full Volto Macrame mask he moved deep between the Venetian spectators as they watched the fireworks. It was alleviating to be considered as a regular man and not a renowned duke, and certainly not what he truly was. The people shied away from him usually, and for once he could blend in without being whispered about or regarded as something vile.

  Womanly gasps suddenly surrounded him in awe. Luciano looked up to see the brilliant white of the largest blast light up the sky. As the trails of silver fell and cast colorful masks aglow, a bit of nostalgia dampened his good mood. At times, he longed for epochs long past and things meant to be forgotten. The white fire, his last contact with Heaven, scarred his mind as his former celestial home was ripped away from his knowledge. Luciano wondered if he'd been as beautiful as the fireworks when he tumbled from the heavens.

  He didn't remember much about that night, only that the silver fire burned him all the way down. The fire of Heaven, once his power to control, scorched him so bad it caused physical change during the fall. His angelic beauty was replaced by a grotesque figure, one his evil minions respected but humans feared. While on Earth, Luciano kept his damaged form hidden by bending his aura to look whole. His human facade was a washed-out rendition of the angelic glory he'd once resembled. Of course, it was also no match to the real magnificence of power he once bestowed. Like his appearance, the light he could now wield was corrupted. The fire of Heaven was tainted, stained by his power, and as a running joke his minions called it Hellfire.

  A chorus of cheers snapped him out of dark thoughts. His disposition darkened after recollecting his sketchy past. No longer caring to be joyful, Luciano stepped forward and made his way to buy a chalice of vino from a vendor. Some fresh wine might do him some good. He wouldn't get drunk, but he could enjoy the pleasant taste. The subtlety of acting normal might help take his mind of the fact he was anything but.

  A flash of white out the corner of his eye caught his attention. Luciano turned in time to see a woman's slim figure shift down a narrow alleyway. She moved away from the night's festivities, allowing the shadows of the side street to play mischievous night games with her shimmering dress. Curious to the unexplained lure of the woman, Luciano didn't fight off the compulsion to follow. Moving into the darkness and smelling her spicy perfume caused him to pick up his steps. The crunch of his shoe on the gravel caused her to glance over her bare shoulder, but her mask hid any emotion. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments before she picked up her pace and sprinted down the right. A flirtatious laugh echoed off the walls as she turned down the junction and slipped out of sight. Mustn't lose her. Who was this woman, this jewel in the night that intrigued him so?

  Almost at a full run, he barreled out into an empty street, looking up and down both ways of the narrow road. He didn't see her. He heard no footsteps on the cobblestone, but the scent of her perfume thickened the air. Luciano calmed his breathing, trying to listen, but the only sound reaching his ears had been the soft lapping of the water in the canal. The slender lane seemed like a ghost town compared to the wild festivities happening on the other side of the buildings.

  Luciano removed his stifling mask to breathe and concentrate on figuring out which way she'd gone.

  "I thought it was you."

  Turning toward the shadow of a building at his back, Luciano saw the woman leaning luxuriously against a staircase. Her sweet Italian tongue rolled off the words like a fisherman's lure. Hooked and intrigued, it had been years since he'd been so revitalized in the presence of a mortal woman. Yet, she kept him dangling on the fishing line, baited and waiting for what would happen next.

  Luciano smirked and focused on the jewelry glinting dimly off her crimson feathered headpiece. The mask and the darkness hid the finer details, but Luciano had seen enough to want her. "How do you know me? I've never seen you before. I'm sure I would remember you, mask or not." Most importantly, he'd never felt anything like her in a long time. She radiated a sense of vitality and warmth that would be hard to miss.

  "I know royalty. Your movements and the nicer clothes gave you away."

  Luciano didn't bother to deny her claims, there was no point. He wanted her out of the darkness, to see her in the light, so his human vision could better look at the creature that left him in awe. She was intuitive about him, even at a masked carnival. He felt exposed while she still encased herself in shadows, watching him like a predator in the night. For once the roles of predator and prey were reversed. He was normally the one stalking in darkness and twisting the shadows. He'd be lying if the switch didn't excite him further. He could call upon Hellfire, light up the dark and demand she remove her mask, but he didn't want to scare her. He frightened enough people daily. Tonight, just once, he wanted to be a mortal man, for her.

  Dropping his arms, he tapped his mask against his thigh. "Come into the light."

  "Why?" It wasn't hard to miss the skepticism in her voice.

  Luciano laughed. "So I can have the pleasure to meet you properly."

  The woman stepped one dainty foot out of the shadows. The silver slipper matched the shoulder cut dress flowing around her quaint frame like a thick cloud. Her sable hair was styled in three large curls draped across her exposed shoulder. Her olive skin tantalized him, and Luciano yearned to pepper kisses on the smooth surface while his fingertips memorized her curves. Her mask hid her face, leaving dark eyes staring back at him through the pale. The mask's painted cherry-red lips matched the bushel of feathers crowning the head dress. He was more curious to the mouth underneath. He wanted to taste her lips, to see if she held the reminiscent sweet-tang of the carnival's rich vino he had yet to taste. Above all, he wanted to feel those lips on his skin.

  His cock pulsed with the first flow of blood to an area he hadn't given much thought to over the centuries. The little minx had him ready and willing with the scent of her perfume and with a few bats of her th
ick eyelashes. Everything about her was exquisite, a rarity to be cherished, but he knew nothing about her. As intrigued as he was, he'd be tempted to throw out his own house rule about sexually intermingling with the humans. A wild part of him considered taking her as his mistress.

  "What is your name?"

  "Why do you want to know?"

  Luciano scoffed. She enjoyed teasing him too much. If she knew who and what she faced, she'd think twice about being flippant on her answers. "Must you question every question I ask?" That earned him a dazzling laugh, one that pulled him to step closer. What made her so enthralling…so familiar? Was she a succubus and he was too blinded by her outer beauty to see it? He sensed no evil radiating from her curvaceous frame, no malevolent energy, but he needed to make sure. It would behoove Lilith to have one of her succubi tempt him with trickery. Just to prove she could outwit him with lust.

  Luciano shut away his human sight and looked at her with demonic eyes, assessing the lure she had on him. The human world decayed and shifted around the edges. The beautiful Italian buildings rotted away leaving hollow skeletons of a deserted homeland crawling with the dark spirits humans could not see. He hated the demonic sight; it reminded him too much of a realm he cared very little about.

  He'd lost his breath at the sight of the phenomenal woman. She stood before him, shimmering in a world of darkness, a beautiful soul untainted by the years of reincarnation it had transpired. In fact, it seemed as if the reincarnations made it stronger. Impossible, yet true. In all his millenniums he hadn't seen such a radiant soul since his temptation of Eve. He was right, she was unique. Dropping his sight, his mystery woman regarded him warily.

  "Your eyes changed, the glare of a fire flickered in them. Yet, the street lamps aren't bright enough to make them glow." She stepped away, her body language rapidly switched to prey, and instinctually he stepped toward her to keep their distance short. Luciano wanted her soul, needed to own it and keep it for all eternity. A soul like hers made him more powerful. He could feel the changes already just by standing near her. He would not let her out of his sight, and he'd add it to his growing collection of artifacts. Of course, he'd cherish the woman housing the delectable soul; she'd never want for anything. It should be enough. However, until she was where he wanted her, he had to tread carefully on her exposure to his darker side.

  Turning his mask in his hands he tried to act non-threatening as best as he could. "Perhaps you've had too much to drink."

  "I have not. You are strange. I hear the stories; they say you're a monster, a…demon." She stumbled back again. The wild look in her eyes alerted him of her desire to dart.

  Luciano reached out a hand to calm her, but like a spooked mare she turned and fled. He gave chase, watching her pick up speed as she realized he raced after her.

  "Wait!" Like a desperate man in need of saving, Luciano ran toward the woman like she was his sanctuary. Luciano was immortal, but his mortal body had limits. Outside of Sheol, he could use a few of his demonic powers to his advantage. If they were in the bowels of the underworld, she wouldn't stand a chance of escape. He could vaporize and appear before her, and she'd be his for eternity, tied to the beast of the inferno. However, there wasn't a creature as delightful as her in Sheol, and there never should be. When walking Earth, Luciano could only change his appearance and call upon Hellfire. So, chasing after his belle, he seemed no different than any other man running after a woman, and his inadequate abilities annoyed him. Hand reached out, he couldn't stop the pleas spilling from his mouth.

  "Please, wait! Let me explain." She'd gain a great distance between them, and he feared he'd lose her in a crowd if she changed her course toward the carnival.

  "No! Leave me alone!" She turned back to shout at him, and then a series of events seemed to happen in slow motion. Luciano saw her ankle twist awkwardly under the hem of her dress. Her body swayed close to the edge of the canal as her arms pinwheeled to stop the motion. Pushing himself to run faster, he knew he'd never reach her in time, and a foreign emotion to settled in his gut.

  Fear.

  A thick vine of dread choked him up before he could release an ineffective shout of warning.

  She fell sideways, hitting her skull on the edge of a boat tie off. The crack of the impact resonated in his ears, even over the distant sounds of merriment. She collapsed into the water with a heavy splash. Without wasting time, Luciano jumped in after her. The icy water seemed like sludge, slowing him up from reaching his perfect soul in a timely manner. He made it over to the foaming white bubbles and heard shouting at the bridge a few yards away. There was a small chance of hope his mystery woman would survive. He yelled for a doctor in Italian and hoped one of the bystanders pulled through.

  He dived deep and grabbed her sinking form. Luciano tried to swim them both to the surface, but her dress weighed her down. Ripping the bodice with all his strength, the tight fabric rippled away as he pulled her close. Luciano kicked his feet and broke the dark surface with the woman's bleeding head cradled against his chest. His white shirt turned crimson, then pink from where the surrounding water sloshed around and mingled with her blood. Back-paddling to the nearest canal stairs, Luciano was out of breath and shivering in the February night. He never felt as human as he did in that moment. Cold, worried, and far from his normal demeanor, he had no time to analyze why there was a difference. His main concern was the unmoving beauty clutched in his steel grip. He brought them onto the damp street and shifted her around to where he could better try to revive her. He lifted off her mask and hesitated for a moment at seeing her fully for the first time.

  Her breathless body caused him to search for a way to save her. To prove he wasn't the monster everyone believed. To prove he cared. If there was any spark of life, his Devil's Mark might bring her back just enough for him to make a verbal agreement. He'd spare her life in return for her soul which he'd own by marriage in her eyes. He'd tie her life to his, forever. She'd be immortal, his queen of the damned which could be hard for any mortal to take. He didn't have time to sort through the logistics.

  It was now or never.

  Luciano touched her face. His fingertips glowed amber with Hellfire. Her pale skin held the charge of demonic energy, but instead of dimming away and absorbing into her spirit, it blistered her beautiful skin. Luciano hastily pulled his hand away to keep from damaging her any more than he'd already done. He ruined everything he touched. The caress was hollow. No connection to her soul, only a dead echo through her body.

  He was too late.

  The Devil's Mark not working meant one thing: any vibrant essence of her soul was gone. Luciano could do nothing except marvel at how closed he'd been to such a treasure. He pushed away from her corpse to brood in silence. With a sickening dread he sat his arms on his knees and hung his head. A groan of rage and sorrow rumbled from his lips as he glanced at her still form beside him. He'd just met her, and like the murky water of the canal, she'd slipped through his fingers. A small part of him had held out hope. Like a phoenix, her soul would resurface again, only in another time and place. A dynamic soul like hers was one in a million.

  Not wanting to be seen weak in the presence of anyone who might be watching, Luciano stood up. He gave one last glance at the beauty on the pavement and slipped his mask on. Before walking off into the night, he bent to retrieve her cracked mask. A few of the wet feathers were broken from the fall, and a small chip on the right corner showed where she'd collided with the tie off. A small memento of the horrid night, but it was his now. One day, when he found this rare soul again, and the woman tied to it, he'd tell her about this night. Since he knew the soul's signature, it wouldn't be so hard to overlook in the future, and then he could lock it up tight for all eternity. It—no she—was a paragon. When they met in the next life, he'd be ready for the remarkable spirit and the woman carrying it. There'd be no slipups.

  The Devil only made a mistake once.

  I

  "The supernatural is the natur
al not yet understood."

  ― Elbert Hubbard

  Present Day

  In conclusion, Avery Locke is a fraud. Andrea Matthews stared at the final sentence of her editorial. The ebony marker blinked on the alabaster screen, emphasizing her final words. The article ended a bit harsh, but the world wanted to know the facts and, as a paranormal investigator, she had an obligation to tell the truth. Her supernatural exploits had their own section in the Houston Dawn Bulletin, but she was known nationwide as the woman to prove the famous legends wrong. Avery Locke, a powerful and rich entrepreneur in Colorado, claimed to be a vampire. She'd heard of him over the years, yet being in his presence proved weirder than any past investigations she'd been on.

  She'd sat down at his upscale restaurant, ordered a savory meal from the five star chef, and tried not to roll her eyes at the false fangs the waitresses and waiters flashed at her. The last half of her meal was spent in a deep conversation with Avery, who told her about the grand life of being a master vampire. Then, after closing hours, he showed her his feeding habits with a "willing human." Frankly, the whole blood slurping made her nauseous, but Avery wanted it branded that his restaurant, Cravings, had been owned and operated by a dominant vampire and his brood.

  However, that's not how she saw the crew at Cravings. To her, they were nothing more than well-paid actors and actresses who carried the fanatical vampirism on after hours. Avery pulling a stunt like that was unsanitary in a place which served food. She'd been nice enough to leave that tidbit out of her report. No need for the health department to get pulled into the scene, but it was bound to come out anyway.

  Andrea couldn't help the skepticism that came with her job. Someone always claimed to be a werewolf, vampire, elf, or supernatural being from another realm. She'd go and investigate the person, to have all the hype lead to fabricated tales weaved by their creative imagination. Avery Locke appeared no different.