The Wings of Eros

Summary: In Dublin in a shadowed room in the middle of a game of pain and pleasure, Angelus needs to hear the proof of Darla's love. He asks, then a question which brings to her a memory ofher past.

To all those who enjoyed Tell me a Tale, to all those who have made my transition into the Darkfic list so easy, to all those who've given me feedback. This is for you.

They'd found her at the Dublin Markets. Dublin the Grey city on an Emerald Isle, throwing off her dreary gown for one day every week. On a Sabbath day work was slowed and people came out in theirbest to the markets where everything was displayed for sale, from livestock to food to shawls and pipes. The Lacemaker had set up her stall amongst the piles of skirts, stockings and books,displaying the airy painstaking work of her own fingers and the fingers of others like Arachne herself. And like the work of Arachne the Spider under Minerva's curse, each fine strand of theintricate cobwebs spun to adorn other women had been washed in tears from strained eyes and blood from cracked, pricked fingers.

That was why they had taken her. That and the fact that she was young and beautiful still. Too old for marriage at 20, but with fine creamy skin nourished by a lifetime of Ireland's air, whichflushed easily into the deepest rose right up to the line where lustrous mahogany hair grew back luxuriantly.

The Lady had bought an altarpiece of lace, the price of which would have nourished a peasant family for two months. It was an insignificant amount to pay for a life, she thought with a secret smileunder the midnight blue folds of her hood, watching her childe charm the Lacemaker effortlessly.

"Because in you I saw a great potential," Darla replied quietly. "I saw the seeds of one who might one day make others marvel at the chaos he would cause. The potential for Evil alone isn't enough,my darling boy. Beauty is the ultimate weapon. It can cause untold pain if rightly used."

"Truly ?" Angelus turned around, his white shirt flapping open for a moment to reveal the crusted darkness of drying blood on the planes of his pale chest. Suddenly, casually, he shifted to gameface, the sound of the demon's snarl rising as lazily as a lion's yawn. With a sweeping movement of his arm he stepped back, motioning exaggeratedly to the Lacemaker. "Is it Beauty that's causing hersuch pain, you think ?"

Darla looked anew with appreciative blue eyes. What a sight it was. They had taken their time with this one, she mused as she tucked the folds of her sheer negligee in around her, sipping the girl'sblood from her glass.

Sweat glistened on the girl's bare skin in the dancing light of the fire. She had long realised that to struggle against the manacles that chained her to the bed was to uselessly expend energy, andnow she lay quite like an animal in a trap except for her laboured breathing. Instinct decreed that survival must be fought for.

How foolish. How wonderfully, naove. And how pretty the weals and cuts that marred the smooth flesh of her thighs and belly. How beautifully red the blood on her breasts and the purple -bluebruisings the colour of ripe plums. And Christ bled on the cross as people gathered around to catch his Holy Blood to keep as talismans, for his suffering would save them all.

"Such beauty. Such loveliness." Angelus' voice was like a purring caress as he grasped the girl's chin, lifting her as-yet-unmarred face. "Such pretty, clever fingers. But is this enough to inspirelove ? Would you take her, make her as you did me ? Should 'I' make her ?"

The flash of his eyes was vicious as he turned to her, but she sat secure in her superiority. No, not superiority. Never that. Her control, as it were. Her Angelus was always agitated when questionshe could not answer came to him in the darkness before morning when the embers of the fire had burned low. He had a tendency to slip into dark moods and brooding.

When she gave no answer, he turned with an uncontrollable shudder, roaring as he seized the large vase on a stand by the foot of the bed and flung it to smash against the wall. The next moment hefound himself backed up against that very wall, both of his Dam's deceptively delicate hands around his neck. Her eyes blazed at him with all the command that a Dam could summon, which would havewithered a minion or and ordinary Childe.

The fingers trembled and fluttered against the skin of his throat. Slowly she withdrew, the long hem of her sheer gown floating over his bare toes and sending a frisson through him. Her face wasperfect porcelain again and eerily pretty in its stillness as she slowly lowered herself onto the sofa and beckoned to him.

For a moment he stood, defiant in his anger and uncertain in his confusion, but her small, outstretched hand exuded a power so strong he could not have resisted even if he had been bound to.

"My darling," she said in a sibilant whisper as he settled beside her like a child, stretching his long length out with one knee drawn up to his chest and his head on her lap. "How can I explain theways of the Heart ? I was in your place once too, and nothing and no one could give me and answer; I had to find it on my own."

"I was a dead whore when I fell into that death-like sleep that takes us after the first hour. They would have thrown my body into a pauper's grave like they did with my mother if he had not claimedme. Nothing but a dead whore.

"They put me in a coffin on his orders, a pretty shade of grey blue it was and filled with lilies. The irony cannot have escaped him. Corruption laid to rest on the tender petals of Purity.

"I smelt the flowers when I woke, the perfume of crushed sweetness in that box of Death. It was their white purity I smelled as I broke my way out desperately as a new born, not into the darkness ofthe ground but into the glow-light of candles in a crypt where my Sire was playing Solitaire as he awaited me.

"'Welcome, my Childe,' he said to me. Then he picked up his cards, those beautiful hand-painted cards only the rich could afford, and burned them one by one. 'My games of Solitaire are over now, mybeauty.' So he told me.

"His was a large clan of more than twenty-five, and as you know it has grown in both size and repute since then. And above all of these both old and young I was placed as favourite.

"My sweet Angelus, how can I tell you what the Master meant to me, then ? You will never learn the extent of it, not even as my Childe; no, do not shake your head. That is your way, your inhumannature. It is why you will be a Childe of Darkness to rival all of them, given time.

"The Lair then was a series of catacombs and I shall always remember how it was to be led through them blindfolded and naked with the memory of my mortal life and my mother still in my mind. I amshamed to confess that the demon in me was still too weak to stop me from weeping then. He let me indulge in that repulsive weakness for a time as he led me down the winding ways. My feet stumbledwith human clumsiness on dusty steps and the light of the torch was nothing but a sense of a red glow to me through the black bindings around my eyes. And I sobbed and wept and hiccupped like anidiot.

"'Stop that,' he said at length to me. Of course I could not. Then he stopped walking and took me aside with a touch so gentle that the demon in me was instantly alert even though my brain could notgrasp what instinct warned against.

"'Listen well to me, Darla,' he whispered softly in my ear as he pressed me backwards so my back touched the cold dust of the wall. 'I am your Sire now. I own you in ways you cannot begin tocomprehend and you will obey me in every way. If not, though it will score my dead heart I shall tear yours from your chest. Not stop this weeping and let no trace of weakness show.'

"It sounds harsh, my darling boy, but it was good advice he was giving me, for as soon as the shock and dry air did their work, I heard the sound of voices and felt, for the first time, a sense ofOTHERS of our kind in numbers. I heard not only the laughter of vampire women and the deeper voices of the men, but also crying. Ugly, strong weeping that was repulsive, yet beautiful at the sametime. The sound of prey weeping. I felt contemptuous enjoyment rise in me and since then I have never cried, never let anyone feel that enjoyment of my grief.

"He led me naked into some place lighted and large, for I could feel a draft; right into the middle of the voices. Once or twice I passed another so close that had I moved I would have brushed coldskin. And worst, most terrible of all was my rising thirst. I could smell blood. I could sense beings somewhere here who were still hotly alive, and that maddening, tantalising crying kept going onand on. It was a child's voice, several children, I was sure of it. You know the lust, my darling, the hunger that made me turn to that sound and that faint scent, but the Master had left me and Ifelt two others come near. I felt their cold hands grasp my arms to hold me still.

"You know what comes next, my Angel. You've seen it happen to others. The spoken ritual, acceptance into the pack. The washing of feet and hands in a basin of blood and the genuflection to thosehigher than you. In my case, my darling, I crouched only to the Master, and only he drew blood from my proffered wrist. Of course this made the others love me very much, as you can imagine. And theywere not fools, these ones, not with the crudity of those in Eastern Europe and elsewhere. Even minions had the rituals, the covenants. They did not fight like animals; they fought with all thesavage cunning of the King's court, backed with tooth and claw. I regret only that you never had the opportunity to play with those of my Sire's court, my sweet boy. You would have them at your feetlike children; but I ?

"The sound of the binding being ripped from my eyes was like the sound of hide tearing, and the glow of the candles and torches was a blood-red haze to my eyes. As the cloth fell from my face I feltthe strangest falling, spiralling sensation. Then sight returned and the first thing I saw, my darling boy, was the face of a stranger. A beautiful young demon he was, with hair as golden as mine andslanted green eyes.

"'La Belle Dame Sans Merci,' he said to me as he took my hand and bowed over it, but I saw the look in his cat's eyes. This was no ordinary one, this was Marcus, Childe of the Master and now-formerfavourite. I saw and knew, and the moment he release my fingers I stepped back convulsively to bump into a stand heavy with fragrant candles and the hot wax spilled down my back. The burning of thewax paled beside the flare of anger in his eyes as the soft titters of laughter rose. In the background the Master was smiling, his dark beautifully shocking when juxtaposed against this goldenbeauty.

"'Is it hunger making you weak ?' Marcus asked me as I stared at the harsh, exotic lines of hi cat's face. With a smile that had very little humour in it he raised a hand to beckon, and the minionsdragged forward the Feast. Such pretty little children, my angelus, orphans, cherubs dragged in dust and spiced with tears. The watchers stirred with the hunger that was screaming in me, knowing theywould each partake of the blood of the innocent. Yet for me there was something more.

"I heard the sound of his shouting before they even brought him in. That, and the smell of him like hot musk and flesh. They dragged him to the centre of the circle, this handsome struggling youngman clad in the remnants of his torn coat and shirt. He cursed, he called on God and crossed himself, the reverant fool. And when at last his wild furious gaze fell on me, what surprise ! I knew him,my Angelus. He had been one of my best customers. A young lordling who had been on the brink of keeping me as his 'fancy girl', who had professed to love me to distraction. How the tables had turned!

"He called me by name, the poor, tender young fool. He stared at my bare form and I saw the anger pass across his face that they had insulted me so. His shock was hilarious when he saw the sharppoints of my teeth between my lips.

"They were all watching around us. How I made this kill would tell them what kind of creature I was. Would I hesitate ? Would I drink but with regret, distaste ? Would I tear him limb from limb,heeding nothing but my hunger like an animal ?

"I felt Marcus' eyes at my back like a cold breeze. I held this lordling's enraged, pleading gaze. And all around me was the love and expectation of my sire. Love; you doubt me ? Love is dark, mysweet boy. Love can be ugly and delectably agonising.

"I let my true face through, and I stepped up to him and took him like a struggling child in my arms. It was quick, the death, but I did not let him fall. In defiance of custom which decreed that Imust be clad after in a black robe of their provision, I took the clothes from this young man who loved me and whose name I have long since forgotten. I took his breeches, his stockings, his lovelylinen shirt, his waistcoat and his coat. Then I broke open his chest and squeezed his heart for the last drops.

"My rule was set in a foundation of unshakeable stone after that. Like you, my darling, I was quick at the Game. Long before I had any strength to speak of I knew how to play the Game among thesepredators whom I ruled according to whim and mood, set below only two others, one of these being my Sire. And it was my Sire who brought me out amongst the people, who taught me to enjoy the games ofthe mind and the struggle for power as well as the thrill of hunt and kill. Always wherever we went I saw both women and men look at him with yearning, and we would play the way I play with you now,my darling. Countless hapless Lords, Ladies, merchants and common thieves died in bliss or agony in their beds with the two killers they had kissed and caressed between the sheets.

"Never again have I ever seen a man more beautiful, more perfectly made like a stalking, liquid-limbed cat. Not even you, my Angelus, could compare to his beauty. He was a splendid creature, Marcus,and every time our eyes met the hostility seemed to leap like a spark from a fire. And of course the Master sat back to enjoy watching the struggle for dominance. I evaded, I retreated. In short, myAngel, I did all I could to avoid him till I could find a weapon to use against him, a time when I would be the one to plunge the stake into his black heart. But he was my elder and stood higher thanme by blood, no matter who the Master loved most. The night came when he saw the time fit to assert his dominance, and there was nothing I could do but obey when he beckoned me from the hall.

"He made me go first down the steps to his crypt, so every fibre of this dead body felt him behind me and every muscle tensed for the blow of the stake that never came. And with his greater age andhis man's boots he was utterly silent whereas I could not stop the sound of my heels on the worn steps.

"Silent he came behind me. Silent he reached around me to push open the door that only a vampire's crypt would have. I stepped in and only had time to build an impression of carpets and tapestries inwine reds and gold against the stone, the fire behind a grate and the great four-poster bed like a crouching spider waiting for victims.

"He closed the door. 'Take off your clothes, Darla.' What I would have given to tear his eyes out, but these fingers undid laces and hooks, peeled away the shell of the bodice and protection of theouter skirt before shedding what lay beneath like white secrets till I stood bare in the center of that fine room for the Dead, staring into the fire and remembering all those nights with all thosemen when I had done the same, willing them to get it over with swiftly.

"I see your smile, you wicked boy. Yes, you're right. It was not like that; I have to give Marcus his due. He had perfected the skill into an art and could balance on a knife-edge between torture andpleasure. With him there was no flight into some mental dream or other thoughts. He was there, unmistakeable, impossible to ignore, and the pleasure he gave was as enslaving as the pain.

"He used only his hands that night, beating me to within an inch of my unnatural life, then bringing me to humiliating pleasure and release on that bed as if to tell me what I was and what I wouldbe. His gratification came the next night, when my screams echoed off the rock walls.

"Oh, I defied him, of course, just as I defied the Master at times. Yet my Sire loved me perversely for that defiance which in another would have brought death. With Marcus there was fighting, bitingand clawing, a struggled to do as much damage as possible without bringing the Master's wrath upon both our heads. And always it culminated in plain rape, the oldest form of control. And always hewon till I believe I came to hate him as much as my eye grew to know his beauty and my fingers his skin.

"Count your few blessings, my darling, that I am trapped in this body of a woman and that you are not among male Elders in court, though well you know I have other ways of teaching you...ways whichyou seem to both loathe and enjoy. True ? I thought so.

"And so matters went for some time. How long ? Years, my darling boy. Years and years, decades, perhaps. Time for us flows like water beneath a bridge. You know the strength of our bloodline, myAngelus. You know your strength. Like was I, my strength not in accordance with my youth. Like, too, was Marcus. If you ask today, many are those who can recount to you the splendour of our courtthen, with the Master and his two golden Children by his side.

"But things change, as they always do. The Master changed, became brooding, withdrawn as those of a certain age sometimes do. Now he would strike if disturbed, even Marcus and I, and increasingly heleft the ruling of the Pack in our hands. Once he came within an inch of staking me, and after Marcus had a vial of holy water thrown in his face we left our Sire alone among the books of hislibrary.

"We both felt agitation, confusion perhaps. Bereft of the one who had made us and who had made himself the lynchpin of our lives. And perhaps we hated him too for our very need of him, yet the needwas there. Neither Marcus nor I was at the stage where our own discontent would drive us to leave, and the Master had taken care to bind us to him as securely as possible.

"I began leaving the lair more and more often, at times not returning even when the sun rose into the sky. Finally it came to the point where I decided to leave, not for always, my darling. That timewas not to come yet.

"I can barely remember the voyage across the sea to Ireland. What I do remember, my dearest, is the cloak of the mist falling around me as I stepped off at the docks, a lady with her hood pulled lownot against the chill but to hide the remnants of a sailor's blood staining her mouth. I remember the heat of the blood pumping fresh in me, as if it was indeed still being driven by a living heartwhen in actuality there was nothing alive about it.s new vessel. Nothing but the discontent.

"I stayed perhaps two nights in Dublin, and then I made the mistake of going out into the country. You see, with human sentimentality I wanted to walk in the fields under the stars, knowing thatthere was no one around me for uncounted miles. I wanted to discover sweetness, purity again.

"The truth is that there is no purity, my Angelus. You can search for it through the ages and think you've found it several times, but then the illusion will turn to dust in your hands and you willbe left bereft. I almost felt sorrow to discover that I could not see the green of the grass, the green of Ireland. Everything was shaded in the charcoal palette of the night, as everything willalways be. The only colour to be had was the red of blood and the sparking explosions of screams in the night.

"That was why they were wise to me in that nameless little hamlet by the loch. These were people who remembered finely their hallowed Celtic heritage, who lived amongst the faery and the unseen. Ihad barely killed two before they realised what I was, who I was.

"The coach was there to take me away again in the night, of course. Always during the night, but they had expected it, my love. They were waiting for us around a bend in the road further on from thevillage. You smile, my sweet boy. Yes, mortals are weak, they're soft, and they're food for our hunger, but in numbers they can be deadly. Never get caught by a mob, my darling. Not you, the Princeof Darkness, never to end in such a way.

"The colours washed across us all like the dancing flames of hell. Sickly orange and red, the flare of maddened eyes and the smell of rage. The waving of pitchforks in the air, not caring that thiswas an English noblewoman they were pursuing to all other eyes. They knew what hid beneath the ruffles and lace; they knew of this dead flesh and this cold blood.

"I screamed my rage at them and maybe my eyes picked up the gold of the torches. Then I was running through all that grass and the cool of the night, against the wind. From behind I heard the screamsof the coachman, which did not bother me at all, then the shrieks of the horses. That was pain, my darling Angelus. My beautiful horses, screaming out as their throats were cut. Why the horses ? Why- because the world is ugliness.

"Dawn was coming. I had perhaps an hour and I could almost smell the sun on the air. Everything around me of the night was whispering warnings to me, the dark calling to the dark to seek rest fromthe destroying rays of the sun. A hot, smoking,

web hosting • domain names
web design • online games