EIGHT
“You know, I do think this makes a very memorable honeymoon, don’t you?” Dante says brightly, taking the lead on the path with his mare.
The skeleton crew of remaining servants have done an excellent job of keeping the stables lavishly cared-for, but I can tell by the hurried trot of my horse that she’s been itching for some exercise.
The midnight air is crisp, carrying the sharp scent of the cypress trees that line the packed dirt road.
The grand dome of the Duomo is at our backs, slowly vanishing under the horizon.
Ahead, misty vineyards pepper the long stretch of road between us and the next city.
It’s quiet, a stillness only shattered by the steady beat of horseshoes against the earth, the slight rattle of our saddle packs, the whistle of a breeze through the trees.
I don’t grace Dante with a response, keeping my eyes fixed forward. Having memorized the line drawn upon the map, I refuse to let him lead us off course—either for nefarious purposes or sheer stupidity.
“Not a big talker, are you?” he goads.
“I kill your kind, and you kill mine. You’re twisted if you think I’m going to have a laugh with you on this journey.”
“You can kill people and have a sense of humor, you know. I do it all the time.”
“I do have a sense of humor. You’re just not as amusing as you think you are.”
He hums in thought. “No. That can’t be it.”
“Have you considered that your master purposely let you escape because you’re so fucking annoying?”
He slows his mare with a light tug on the reins, his laugh turning cold and harsh. “You don’t know Alessandro.”
The sudden quiet that follows his hollow tone gives me an involuntary shiver. Arrogant shithead or not, I can’t deny that Dante is an excellent combatant. I can’t imagine the monstrosity of a vampire that frightens him into silence.
“Perhaps it’s best I learn about him, then,” I say. “Should your master discover us, I would like to know what I’m up against.”
Dante makes cold, fleeting eye contact with me, then faces forward as though he hadn’t heard me. A slight pulse feathers his jaw.
“Come on, you were fully incapable of shutting up just a moment ago,” I say. “How can you expect me to protect you if I’m caught unawares?”
Another beat, then he sighs. “What are you dying to know, my little slayer? I’m sure you’ve already been fed your share of horror stories regarding vampire lords.”
“I’ve been educated, yes,” I return pointedly. “But more than the basics of anatomy and strength would be greatly appreciated. Even what little you’ve told me already marks him a stranger cut than almost any of his stature.”
“Is that so?”
I glance over to see Dante watching me with renewed intensity.
No taunting, no cruelty. He looks genuinely curious, a faint furrow pulling between his brows.
It unnerves me, but I offer a shrug, focusing on the reins in my hands.
“Vampires rarely stay close to the one who turned them as long as you and your so-called siblings seem to have. Sometimes the lord and their spawn are lovers for a time, others mentor and student. Most vampires are abandoned quickly like a mistake in the night, according to our records.”
Dante's pause registers heavily, the sound of hooves on the path gently breaking the silence.
That contemplative, stony look is still on his face, his gaze miles away.
He's surprised, I realize. Another pang of curiosity shoots through me.
Over ninety years since his fateful turning, he may know less about what's ordinary for his own kind than the order of slayers hunting him.
But how the hell is that possible?
“I suppose you're lucky to have only met one vampire lord,” I probe carefully.
That pulls a dark smile out of him. “Isn't anyone?” Dante shrugs, his expression easing back into boredom. “The few stray vampires who happen upon our territory never seem to have masters of their own… Though they don't tend to last long enough to share any sweeping personal testimonies.”
“What territory has Alessandro laid claim to?”
“He moonlights as a wealthy merchant in Venice, operating out of a bloated palazzo on the Grand Canal. Not that it matters, because he’s untouchable.”
Venice. Considerably further from Corvus’ usual Tuscan radius, but my insides twist at the thought of it—that crowded city packed with shadowy canals and political warfare that could easily conceal even the most brutal assassination.
Not to mention, the international trading hub.
Someone could easily blend in or melt into the darkness. It is a perfect vampiric kingdom.
If Corvus' resources could spare it, I know Mother Superior would be keen to purify that city of sin.
“Every vampire thinks immortality is their god,” I say, hiding my shiver behind a scoff. “But even the most powerful creatures have their weak spots.”
“If I find any on him, you’ll be the first to know,” Dante mutters. “Believe me—Alessandro is not to be underestimated. You’ve no idea what he’s capable of.”
My brow furrows slightly. “You speak of him like Lucifer himself. Is he your family or your jailer?”
Dante snorts under his breath. “Both, I suppose. And unfortunately, a skilled businessman. The city worships him for his supposed philanthropics.” I catch his sharp eye roll as he dwells on this. “As if anyone can’t just throw some ducats at street urchins.”
“Well, having a palace for your prison could be worse, hm?”
“I’d give all the gold I have to never lay eyes on it again,” he mutters, deep voice laced with a gravelly bitterness. “A life of luxury until you step out of line and learn the depths of Father’s wrath. Everyone’s dream.”
The heaviness in his words settles like a tangible weight in the air between us. I note it, note the shadows in his gaze—but I refuse to relent.
“And what are you to Alessandro?” I press, splitting my attention between the tree-lined road and the profile of his face. “An errand boy, fetching victims and playing the rake?”
Dante’s mouth tightens at my phrasing, but annoyance quickly melts into contemplation. His eyes slide over to me, cutting a sharp smile in my direction. “Does that frighten you?”
I return a simpering smile of my own. “Don’t flatter yourself, leech.”
Dante chuckles, glancing back at the road. “Me and the others have our jurisdictions of Venice to manage. Mine happens to include the Doge, who I’ve grow rather fond of, in my own way. Terrible chess player, though. Always fails to secure his king.”
The comment is made airily, but it turns my blood to ice. Heavenly father, this vampire family is influencing the highest authority of Venice. Who knows what manner of heathenistic things Dante has whispered into the ruler’s ears over the decades at the behest of his “father”?
And… the others.
“These siblings you mentioned… How many are there?”
“Five, besides me. The youngest is Isabetta—fifty-eight and still a ravenous brat, but we all pass through that phase. I’m sure you know the sort.
” He sighs through his nose. “You’ll really only need to worry about Marco and Clémence.
I suspect they’ll be who he’s sent to sniff me out and drag me back.
Maybe Nico, if our dear father is feeling particularly cruel. ”
I take a sidelong look at him, choosing my next question delicately. “Are any of them…yours? I mean—did you turn them?”
There’s a dangerous clench to his jaw, and I’m starting to worry I’m treading too far. “I’ve never turned anyone.”
I blink. “What— No one?”
“It’s against the rules,” he grinds out. His gaze is fixed stonily at the road ahead, unwavering. Holy shit, he’s embarrassed. “A family with many fathers falls quickly in on itself, as my master likes to say.”
“Hm. Disciplinarian, is he?”
Dante snaps his head toward me, his expression withering. “You don’t understand. Alessandro… He’s not always a tyrant. He can be persuasive in ways you can’t imagine. When I was younger, there was a time I would have slain dozens of souls just to earn his approval.”
“And yet here you are.”
Chasing a miracle alongside a mortal enemy, hunted by his own surrogate family.
My brow creases at the mystery of it, morbid curiosity gnawing—what had this vampire lord done to Dante to make him so terrified, so angry?
It had to be more than luring victims and playing Venetian prince.
Still, I decide better not to pry too far, too fast, lest he grow fed up and shove me right off my saddle.
“What happens if they catch you?” I ask after a beat.
Dante sighs wearily—I’m on thin ice with his patience.
“Oh, I don’t know. Castration, lacerate my body within inches of death.
I suppose it depends on whose depraved imagination wins out.
” This is said far too breezily, even for my liking—though I don’t miss the tension still crackling through him.
“The last one to even attempt to break free of the Family was starved for a full year. Nico. As a human, he was a disgraced artist, enchanted by the idea of witnessing his work carry on through eternity. It’s hard to believe, but there was a time when he and I could debate the merits of different arts for nights on end. ”
I can’t help but think of the vampires we keep in the undercroft of the abbey for training, how their beauty withered over years of deliberate starvation.
I’d seen it, how their minds devolved along with their appearance.
Velvet-tongued devils were reduced to snarling animals on a leash, thinking only in primal beats—hunt, feed, freedom.
To think of vampires doing such a thing to one of their own… It’s baffling, but why would I begin to think these monsters capable of decency now?
“Sounds like you two were close,” I offer. “Did he recover?”
“Something to that effect. He barely speaks now—though it’s a miracle he can manage even that. I heard from others that he was little more than a gaunt shell of himself by the end of his punishment.”
“You didn’t see for yourself in all that time?”
The final, fragile thread of his patience snaps. “You know, I welcomed conversation, not an interrogation. You’re making me regret being so hospitable.” A gentle nudge from his calves to the mare’s sides, and the horse’s stride lengthens, breaking in front of me.
I mimic the motion, folding my hands into my own horse’s mane as I match his quickened pace, then move ahead to steal the lead by just a touch. I swear I catch a touch of distant remorse on Dante’s face as I pass, but it must be a trick of the darkness. Surely he is incapable of such an emotion.
“Right, because coercing someone to join you on a deadly mission is the behavior of a gentleman,” I call over.
A cold chuckle from him. “Like you aren’t creaming yourself at the thought of beheading the lot of us.”
Grimacing, I cast my gaze away with a crinkle of my nose. What a contemptable, vile man.
Dante slides the reins to one hand, pulling out the meticulously folded map tucked into his belt. He unfolds it, brows pulling together as he studies the inked parchment intently. He mutters under his breath as traces our route with his eyes, glancing around us to confirm our location.
“That’s the third time in an hour you’ve looked that over. Must you commit every damn tree to memory?” I ask.
“Seven hells, are you trying to pick a fight? I thought you’d had your fill back in the bedroom,” Dante clips out roughly, not looking up.
But I spot the clench to his jaw—I’ve hit a nerve, and something cruel in me wants to twist the knife.
I give a short, pointed laugh, shaking my head.
“You’re over a century old. I thought you’d be more well-traveled in all that time.
I didn’t expect you to be gawking at every fork in the road like a newborn babe in the woods. ”
“Why don’t we go back to some fucking silence?
” Dante folds the map and tucks it back into his belt, casting a flat glare my way as he adjusts his position on the saddle.
He looks back at the dirt road stretching before us.
“For the record, I’ve scarcely stepped foot out of Venice since joining the Family.
And before… Well, that was over ninety-five goddamn years ago, so you’ll forgive me if things look just a little different now. ”
I give him a dismissive scoff, but can’t deny his words give me pause. Quite a short leash given by his “father”. Blessed with unthinkable power, only to be imprisoned in the City of Canals. It’s almost pitiful—though I suppose it explains his knowledge gaps when it comes to vampiric history.
“All this effort,” I go on, lightening some of the hostility in my voice. “And you don’t even know if you’ll survive reverting to mortality. For all you know, the cure may reduce you to ash and bone once human again.”
“A very pleasant thought,” Dante drawls, shooting me a look. “I can see why your Order was keen to get rid of you. But if that happens, I suppose there’s no glory for you, is there? Pity.”
“I imagine it’s still enough to earn me a nice, gilded portrait in the legacy hall. Your bones will offset the bloodred roses I’ll drape at the corners quite nicely.”
To my surprise, he smirks, stifling a laugh at this. “What charming aspirations to lose your soul over. A painting and some flowers.”
I glower at him. “Go fuck yourself.”
A monster like him could never understand the meaning of being honored like that—the legacy I would leave by cleansing the world with honor and courage.
We ride in silence for a beat, the air whipping around us.
There’s this thrilling rise in my chest when I look at the horizon, where the star-flecked sky touches the earth.
A wild sort of exhilaration takes root in me, being so far from the abbey, riding alongside one of the most dangerous creatures in the world. Holding his fate in my hands.
“Would you miss any of it?” I call over. I’m genuinely curious, but I’d be equally pleased if my question just irritates him further. “Say we do find this cure, and you’re human again.”
“What, being practically enslaved to someone else’s will? Never seeing the sun?” Dante sneers.
“No, I mean…the other things.” I gesture vaguely with a wave of one hand.
He mulls it over. “I’d miss the power. Being able to do whatever the fuck I want… But it’s worth trading for a life actually worth living.”
I shut up for a long while after that, because for once, I agree with him.