Aris Rising: The Court of Vampires: AN INFINITY DIARIES NOVEL (8 page)

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A light dusting of snow covered the ground and their boots left a dark path of footprints through the trees.

“These trees are grown for the express purpose of being cut to the ground?” His eyes were busy assessing the pines that surrounded them. “Some of them have been growing for several years.” It
was hard for him to believe such a sacrilege was a part of modern society.

“Well, it’s a Christmas tree farm.” Sarah didn’t know why she felt embarrassed to have brought him here. “There were farms in England, weren’t there?”

“Yes, of course. But farmers grew food and crops to make cloth and rope. Not farms for trees.” Realizing just how critical he sounded, he stopped walking. Turning to face her, he gently rested his hands on her shoulders. “Sarah, I am so sorry. I did not intend to offend you. I think your Christmas tree farm is a splendid idea.”

She chuckled at his feeble attempt to apologize. She was growing much too fond of this strange being.

“Come.” He took her hand and began walking quickly down the path. “Let us find the perfect tree.”

She hurried to stay a pace with him and felt a strange disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her. She could have sworn he wanted to.
“Why,”
she asked herself,
“would I want him to kiss me?”
She answered her own question.
“Could it be I’m falling for him? No, I can’t be that crazy. That just can’t happen.”

#

The ringing of the telephone was barely audible over the sound of Sarah’s electric toothbrush. She heard it, lifting the receiver just in time.

“Hello?”

“DeMarco?”

His laugh was clear as he answered. “Si. DeMarco. I am calling to tell you that you are in my thoughts and to wish you well on Thanksgiving.”

She didn’t tell him she was just thinking about him, wondering if she would hear from him while he was in Italy. “Thank you. It’s great to hear your voice. How are you?”

“All is well here, but I do miss your smile.”

“Are you with your family?”

“No. I am taking care of some business in Milano before I travel to be with my family. It seems so long since I have spent much time with them. Our home is in the country and it is very beautiful.” He paused. “Perhaps some time you will visit.”

Sarah was glad she didn’t really have the option. She certainly didn’t have any intention to travel with DeMarco to visit his family, yet she wondered what they were like. He hadn’t told her very much about them except that there were a lot of them. “
Like most Italian families, I suppose,”
she thought.

“When will you return to the states?”

“I will be back soon after New Year. I will telephone you again before I leave my country.”

“It will be great to see you again.”

“Yes, I miss you, Sarah. Have a lovely holiday. Buona sera.”

“Goodnight, DeMarco.” She held the receiver to her ear a moment longer until she heard dead air at the other end.

T
he waiter left the table and the three friends settled in for their traditional pre-holiday dinner. They sipped their wine and ate bruschetta as they chatted.

“Okay Sarah,” Colleen spoke, exasperation clear in her voice, “what took you so long to fess up about this Italian guy?”

“C, there’s not that much to ‘fess up’ about. We’ve been seeing each other for a while, that’s all?”

“But what about Carlos?” Bonnie rested her elbows on the table as she leaned toward her friend.

“I don’t get it. Why is everyone asking me about Carlos?”

“Come on,” Colleen grinned. “We all know you’ve got the hots for each other. It’s been obvious for a long, long time.”

“We’re just friends.” Her words sounded hollow as she spoke and she knew it. “Okay, so I’m not quite sure what we are; we’ve never really talked about it much.”
“Hell,”
she thought,
“if they only knew I’m not even quite sure what he is much less how I feel about him.”
She spoke out loud once again, “We just enjoy being together.”

“That’s pretty obvious, so what about him? Does he know about DeMarco?”

“I told you, DeMarco’s just a friend.”

“You sure have an over-abundance of friends these days.” Colleen giggled before she picked up her iced tea.

“Okay ladies, my turn.” The two other women turned to give Bonnie their full attention. “I’ve met a guy.”

“Where? Tell us everything?”

“I hate to admit it, but on the internet and he’s a really nice guy. He’s a fireman and knows how to cook.” Bonnie laughed.

Colleen gave her a hug. “Never under estimate the power of a man who knows how to boil water. I married me one, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know if I’ll marry Jack Dixon, but he can sure whip up a great dinner in record time. And he actually likes doing it?”

“I say do not pass go, do not collect one dime, grab this guy and run.” Colleen was happy to see Bonnie meet someone after a long, dry spell of not dating.

“It hasn’t gotten that far yet, we just seem to really get along and laugh a lot. And the really cool thing is we’re from similar backgrounds.”

“
Similar backgrounds,”
Sarah thought about the two men in her life.
“How about similar continents or similar species.”
She shook her head and chuckled to herself as the waiter brought the pasta to the table.

#

Aris enjoyed driving Sarah’s car and having her as a passenger. The trees whizzed past them, their black trunks clearly sculpted against a cloudy, gray Thanksgiving sky. Driving was one of the added benefits of the twenty-first century. He looked forward to the day when he would own a really fast car. He remembered riding the swiftest horses in the king’s stable through the English countryside. The exhilaration he felt in those long gone days would pale in comparison with one hundred miles an hour and many, many horses under the hood of a shiny black sports car.

He slowed down as he turned into a residential neighborhood.
Aris pulled the car in front of Colleen and Bob’s front walkway and parked. He jumped out and walked around to the passenger side to help Sarah lift a huge bag of food out of the back seat.

“Is it traditional to bring such massive amounts of food to a Thanksgiving dinner? This is my first, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but do your best to not be so obvious about it. You’re supposed to be a Mexican-American who has been doing this for more than a quarter of a century.” He took the shopping bag from her and held her arm as they walked down the icy sidewalk. “We all expected you would be different after a near death experience, but so far you’ve been all Carlos.”

“Do not be afraid.” He laughed as he let go of her arm to ring the doorbell. “Baby, I’m so down with it.” He winked at her as he pressed the buzzer

S
ARAH HAGAN, transcript, session 3

I was sleepless throughout the night. Only he filled my thoughts. Even memories of the old woman’s prediction of mystery and death could not erase the image of his golden skin and flying black hair from my mind. I moved quietly from the bed so as not to disturb my sleeping sister. “I must see him again.” The thought chewed at me without ceasing, giving me no peace.

There was a moment of silence as Sarah paused, deep in trance. In that brief instant, her romantic dream from weeks before flashed through her mind in its entirety. She gasped as she remembered the intensity of their passion as he made love to her.

At last, she groaned as she spoke a name. “Diego.”

“Who is that Elizabeth?”

Bonnie was alert, a bit shocked by the sound of desire etched into the voice of her friend. “Tell me more of him Elizabeth.”

I rode alone, away from the hunt. A wild boar ran in front of my horse, frightening it. It reared and as it bolted, I was thrown onto the ground. As I stood, a masked rider appeared as if from nowhere lifting me in front of him onto his mount. He rode like a whirlwind, carrying me off into the wood.
Her breath was short, almost panting as she
recounted the experience.
There, on the forest floor, he ravaged me. I fought as a demon at first yet even as I struggled, his lust ignited a never-before-felt yearning inside my young virgin’s body. I was unable to withstand the fervent demand from him; at last, I succumbed with all my heart and with a heat I was not even aware existed. His lust wrapped us in a blanket of wanton abandon. Who was I? Who was he? I disappeared into him as he loved me with his body, his soul. I became his in that moment knowing naught about the past, the future. Not caring. Each caress, each kiss burning a raw, aching need into my yielding flesh. There was pain and blood and ecstasy.

At last when we were spent, he held me, covering my nude body with the thick strands of my long, golden hair. “I have taken you. Now you are mine. I pledge my life and my love to you always.”

I reached to untie his mask, to see the rest of his beautiful face. He grasped my wrists moving my arms to rest on the ground above my head. I whispered, “Who are you?”

He was silent, staring into my eyes. As I opened my lips to ask again, he covered them with his own. “No, do not speak. My name is unimportant. But, your name? Your name is Beauty, Belleza, Belleza de Oro. My beauty of gold,” he murmured into my trembling mouth.

I know not how many hours we lay on the forest floor. He covered us with my voluminous skirts to keep warm as the twilight crept among the trees. A sliver of a moon peeked from behind the sheltering leaves and branches when, at last, I recognized the lateness of the hour. I knew I must return to my father’s house. If I were gone longer, a search party would be sent for me. I did my best to make clear to him who I was and the great danger there was to him and to his people if my father found us.

He shook his head and drew me more closely into his arms. Promising to come to him the following day, I persuaded with words and caresses to be allowed to rise. We gathered my clothes, doing our best to arrange them. Filthy and wrinkled, yet I knew I could explain it away. My horse
must have returned to the stable hours ago. The household would know I had an unfortunate occurrence. It would easily explain my distress. I felt their concern for me even in that very moment. I knew I must make haste to protect my love, to protect the esteem of my family. My actions of the day had dishonored our household. I must not let on. They must not know.

Once dressed, he lifted me onto his horse and we rode to the edge of the clearing where he found me earlier in the day. Kissing me roughly, he set my feet on the ground. Looking deeply into my eyes, he spoke. “I am Diego.” He reached to untie his mask and as he removed it from his face, I gasped. It was he, my beautiful gypsy dancer; he who I was unable to forget. I knew unbounded joy as I hastened to my father’s manor house, arriving just as the dogs and horses entered the courtyard, home from their search.

My father’s arms wrapped around me. I could hear my mother’s sobs of relief. I told the tale of being thrown and lying, senseless for most of the day. An easy lie for it was true. Entranced in a stupor of love, I had spent my afternoon. I felt no remorse for my story as I was led into the house and taken to my room.

All was quiet in the office as Bonnie finished her notes then sat silently, waiting for her friend to continue. When she didn’t, the therapist questioned her further. “Did you see him again?”

Again and again I crept away while my sister slept. I danced and laughed and loved as the gypsy camp became as my second home. The married women stayed far from me; the young, unmarried ones despised me for entering their world. The crones and the men delighted in me, in my differences. It was a time of great joy and adventure. The old ladies brushed my long blond hair and dressed me like a gypsy doll every time I visited.

One morning, just before dawn as I crept up the stairs to the room I shared with my sister, I was seen by one of the kitchen girls. Now frightened less she make it known I was away from the manor during the
night, I hurried up the stairs to my chamber.

Sitting in the middle of the bed, very awake and very cross, was my sister. Arms folded across her chest, her mouth set in a straight, demanding line, she spoke. “Where have you been, sister? What mischief have you wrought? Father came to our room last night and found you gone. He is furious. He rode out with his men to search for you. It seems luck was with you he did not find you. Now, where have you been?”

“
Oh Jane, you must help me. He must never know. I have been at the gypsy camp.”

“The gypsy camp?” Her tone was incredulous. “Why the gypsy camp? What have you done?” She gasped. “The gypsy dancer. You have fallen in love with the gypsy dancer. Oh Elizabeth, whatever will you do? Father will send you away.”

“He will do worse than send me away. He will send me to the royal court and I will never see Diego again. I love him, Jane.”

The younger girl covered her ears with her hands. “No. Do not make me a part of your charade. I will not alibi you, sister.” Her eyes grew round and her mouth hung open. “Has he touched you,” she whispered. “Have you given him your maiden-head?”

Casting my eyes to the ground, I nodded my head yes.