. the vampire's rose .

Marco leaned against the clay wall as the brigade brought out the young Antoine, an aristocrat accused of being a traitor against the Mexican’s French emperor, Maximilian. They tied him to a wooden pole, his eyes hidden by a blindfold, that did little to hide the jeering faces of the crowd. Raising his sword towards the sky, the captain ordered his soldiers to point their bayonets. Marco closed his eyes. He could almost feel the rise and fall of Antoine’s chest, hear the faint tap of his beating pulse soon to be snuffed out. He pitied the aristocrat whose death would bring no justice to Mexico. Opening his eyes, Marco stared at the man’s bared chest and silently prayed for the repose of his mortal soul.

“France shall fall!” the prisoner shouted. He struggled against the leather straps tying him to the pole, his ashen face bathed in sweat.

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” the captain said, and only laughed and swiped the air with his steel sword. Silence descended upon the crowd as the soldiers cocked their bayonets. Clouds of smoke erupted from their weapons and struck their prisoner who fell to the dirt ground, a lifeless doll.

The crowd spat and cursed at the deceased, his body vandalized by their stones and sticks as streams of his blood seeped into the sand. It tantalized him. Marco longed to bend over the corpse, to drink the remaining liquid and quench his hunger, but to do so would be fatal. If he revealed his true nature, death would be imminent. Marco seized the reins of his chestnut mare and led her out of the prison courtyard. Before he left, he noticed a tall man, his features hidden by a black sombrero and a woolen blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Now this is a surprise. The patron of the Villa of Shadows has decided to join the festivities. It is an honor.”

Marco turned towards the speaker, the grinning captain, and then proceeded to mount his horse.

“I hope you enjoyed our entertainment, Don Marco. I had no idea you were interested in our executions.”

“I abhor such spectacles, Captain, so please, I am late as is. Villa Sombra is far and I have important business to attend to.”

The captain nodded, “Please give my deepest regards to your boarders, especially Lady Josephine.” A pink tongue escaped from his mouth, moistening his lips.

“Tell her yourself. I am not your servant.”

“Then do tell Phillipe Laurancez to be careful. We wouldn’t want our fellow Frenchman to fall to the same fate as his friend,” the captain said and glanced at the torn body in the courtyard.

Insolent man! Hadn’t he caused enough pain and suffering with the executions? Marco glared at the captain. He smiled inwardly as he imagined sinking his sharp teeth into the scrawny man’s throat. The taste of his blood would satisfy the anger burning inside of him. That day would come soon enough.

*******

Time seemed to fly by so fast for Marco. One minute he was a newborn vampire traveling the countryside with the fallen Aztecs, searching for other immortals. The next minute, three hundred years had passed but he still looked the same. Each time he glanced in a mirror, no white lines marred his raven hair or mustache, his bronze skin still retained its luster, and to any human he still appeared to be twenty-five. Immortality amazed his senses and he couldn’t help but wonder when his life would end. Bullets and steel failed to harm him, his wounds healing before any blood could be spilled. He had the strength of a dozen men and the speed of the jaguar. Night had become his companion. It cast shadows with the moon’s glow and helped hide his features from his prey, but the sun’s rays never hesitated to warm him in the colder months or paint the illusion of false mortality. Marco only feared fire.

He had discovered these abilities only by chance. There were still so many mysteries left to be revealed by him, but he feared he’d be dangerous to the city if he tried to discover them. Yet, they seemed less important compared to the danger his boarders now faced. Marco knew Captain Montoya to be ruthless. The captain’s suspicions meant trouble for the brother and sister, and he knew he would have to do something in order to prevent unnecessary intrusion within his home.

Marco reached the villa and gave his reigns to the servant. Upon entering the living room, he heard Phillipe muttering to himself about the execution. The young man still wore the woolen blanket over his shoulders, but he now held a rifle in his left hand. The brown locks of hair hid his face but not the foul words sputtering from his mouth.

“Maximilian will pay!”

“You will if you’re not careful. You were lucky no one recognized you at the execution though I must admit the charro disguise fit you nicely,” Marco said, and seated himself on a couch. He picked up a newspaper and began to read it. He wasn’t interested in hearing Phillipe’s outbursts.

“I wish I had been recognized. I would have killed that captain if I’d had the chance!”

“Phillipe, do calm yourself,” a young woman said as she crossed the room. She wore a dress the color of the clear, blue sky, her long skirts grazing the stone floor. Rich brown curls rested on top of her head, held only by a single white rose. Marco looked up from the paper, and stood offering his arm. She took it and smiled. Phillipe smirked and stormed out of the room.

“I fear your brother is mad at me,” Marco said, leading her to a chair draped in maroon velvet. She released his arm.

“Phillipe, I’m afraid, cannot hold his temper.”

“Josephine, both of you are in danger. Have you given any thought of our discussion last night?”

“I have and I’ve made up my mind. Don Marco, my brother and I are grateful for your hospitality, but when I say that Mexico and the revolutionaries need us, it means Phillipe nor I can give up this cause. We are their only tie to the Americans in the North. Without us they will need to look for others who can provide them a steady supply of weapons and that will take too long, especially since the Americans are still fighting among themselves.”

Josephine reached for his hand, but he drew it away. Marco walked across the room and looked outside the glass doors into the garden. Vast willow trees canopied over the bushes and flowers, hiding the sun behind the leaves and enveloping them in shadows. He turned to Josephine, her head bowed, gloved hands neatly folded in her lap. She looked so beautiful. How he wished to see her eyes that were far more radiant than the purest of green emeralds. Every time he looked into them, it reminded him of the peaceful garden outside shadowed only by the danger she courted.

“I see then that your choice is set and nothing I say can change your path. What I cannot and will not understand is why? You are too young.”

“Age means nothing when you know the cause you follow. I may only be twenty, but I feel as if I’ve lived twice as long and understand twice as much.”

If she had lived as long as he, she would understand her cause was useless. For three hundred years Marco had roamed the continent and had seen injustice. Companions fell vanquished by their foe and he knew too well where the repercussions ended. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could still picture the faces of those who had believed just as she did. He wished no similar fate for Josephine.

“You may think yourself wise,” he said, “But even in the end the wisest fall.”

“Is that a fact?” she asked.

“No. I call it experience.”

“Forgive my intrusion Monsieur, but you seem far too young to be experienced,” she said and laughed.

“Don Marco, please ignore my sister’s comments,” Phillipe said as he re-entered the room, grinning, “She is too fond of playing games with her hosts. I tell her she’d be the perfect wife.” He sat down in a similar chair next to her and held her delicate hand in his own. Marco only shrugged.

“Brother, it appears you are no longer cross,” she said.

“I have received important news from our friends, the revolutionaries. Benito Juarez is on the march and should reach Guanajuato in a matter of days.”

“I sincerely hope your news is accurate. If Juarez were truly on his way…,” Marco began.

“…then the captain must not find out,” Josephine finished.

“But what if your messenger were a knight and you the enemy’s pawn. It could be a trap,” Marco said.

“That’s why I’m going alone. I cannot risk the lives of my men. I shall know by tomorrow night if my friend is lying,” Phillipe replied, as he squeezed his sister’s hand. She only shook her head and released his grip.

“It’s too dangerous!” she cried, “You mustn’t go alone. If you were caught…”

“Then forget me and continue in my place.”

“Such bold words, but will it work against a firing squad?” Marco asked.

“Antoine’s fate is not my own, Don Marco. I will be careful.”

“Brother, at least take someone with you. If not, take me.”

“No! I will not forfeit your life!”

Josephine pushed her brother aside and left their company. Phillipe shook his head, but Marco felt better she had gone.

“Don Marco, I must apologize for my, sudden outburst. It was uncalled for, but I need to ask for a favor.”

“And that is?”

“Take care of Josephine. I’ll be frank. I may not come back and my sister needs someone to watch over her for a while.”

“What makes you think she’ll want to stay with me?” Marco asked.

“She seems to be quite taken with you. I know she’ll be safe if she remains in your company.”

“Very well.”

*******

The fiery sun descended behind the forest trees and enveloped the sky with an ebony blanket. Tiny specks of light appeared on the horizon and multiplied until the entire sky became illuminated by their soft glow. There was no moon that night, Marco noticed as he joined Josephine in the garden and handed her a flowered shawl. She wrapped it around her small figure, never once looking at Marco, just staring at the night sky.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said.

“Then where should I be, Marco? Inside with the servants? Safely protected from the world outside where no harm shall come my way?” she said, and strolled over towards the flowers, their hues darker than her dress.

He followed after her, “Josephine, your brother is right.”

“I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Really? And if the captain had decided to come arrest you and found you in the garden, what would you have done then? Scream?”

“If he dares come near me, I’ll surprise him with this,” she said, as she lifted her skirts above her ankles and extracted a dagger from a harness attached to her snowy left leg. Marco turned his head away.

“You see,” she laughed. “I’ll say my ankle hurts and they’ll turn just like you if they see me try to rub the pain away. Of course if that should fail, I will scream and pray you’ll come and rescue me.”

“You seem quite sure of yourself, but how can you believe I’ll come to your aid. The captain might bring at least a dozen men. What will I do against so many?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. He would kill any man that dared hurt her, but at the same time he became uncertain. If he protected her, it would give the captain reason enough to accuse him as a traitor and then Marco would have to use his powers. He could lose his home.

“You would help, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Marco nodded, but he felt like a hypocrite. Josephine smiled and hugged him tightly, but she released him, blushing.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have embraced you the way I did. It’s just that I feel so safe when I’m with you. The captain wouldn’t dare fight against you, besides how can he suspect us. Phillipe and I have been discreet in our dealings with the revolutionaries.”

“You are mistaken. You and your brother are in danger. Phillipe knows that the captain suspects something and only wishes to divert him as long as he can away from you.”

“At what cost? His life?”

“Death must come to all of us. If this mission were to be his last, then that is the risk he must take.”

“Marco, help us.”

“I can not. This is my home and I will not lose it to help your brother.”

“Then why have you not told Captain Montoya of our activities?” she asked and looked into his azure eyes. He turned away from her, his stomach heaving for no apparent reason. He wanted to say that he cared about her. Maybe that was why he had agreed to watch over her. The world spinned and he breathed deeply. He craved blood.

“The captain is an unjust man and his methods do not appeal to me. Besides,” he whispered, “you came to me for safety. What goes on in privacy is none of my business.”.

“Are you all right?”

Her question startled him. Turning to face her, Marco tried to smile and was shocked when her soft hand reached up and touched his face. She traced his cheeks and forehead, and then wiped his brow with a lace handkerchief.

“Yes, I’m just a bit off balance.”

“Really?”

“Josephine,” he murmured and closed his eyes. He could smell the sweet perfume of roses on her slender neck. He wanted to drink her, taste the nectar lying in her veins. He wanted to kiss her and that was when their lips met. He was too close.

“Marco,” she said.

“I can’t.”

“You already are.”

She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. Their lips met again, sending waves upon waves of feeling down his spine and into every muscle in he body, and everything became so sensitive. He touched her silky curls, rubbed his hand down her delicate neck to her bare shoulder. He breathed her in through his mouth, felt her shudder at his touch, moaning. He nuzzled her neck.

“Marco,” she whispered, and bent her head back.

She was so close, her perfume intoxicating his senses, blinding him as his mouth opened, fangs extended, ready to plunge into a vein. And then she opened her eyes.

“Vampire!”

Her words pierced his heart as she screamed. “I will not harm you,” he said trying to quiet her shouts. She wriggled out of his grasp and stepped behind the bushes, but she stopped screaming. Marco felt lost. Nothing he could say would change the impression he had planted on her soul. She would hate him now that she knew what he was.

“You were going to kill me? Why?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

“My intentions were not meant to harm you. Josephine…”

He reached out and tried to hold her but she escaped him again. She covered her face in her hands and moaned. “I thought I meant more to you. Now I understand why you wanted to protect me. You want me for yourself.”

“No. Your wrong. I,” he said, but then Phillipe came rushing out of the house with a rifle in his hand. Josephine rushed into his arms.

“What happened?” he asked her but she was shaking to hard to be able to speak. Phillipe looked at Marco.

“She thought she heard someone in the bushes. It frightened her.”

“Did you see what it was?”

“A rat,” she whispered staring at Marco, but never once did she release her brother.

Marco nodded as Phillipe walked Josephine back into the house. He stood there until he could no longer withstand the pain in his heart, and fell to his knees. The blood raged in his brain blinding his senses. How he wished he had said that he loved her.

*******

Marco went to the garden just as the sun began to ascend. Agony enshrouded his mind and soul. He’d gotten too close. Just a second longer and she would have been his. The thought tantalized and perturbed Marco. She was too pure to be touched by death, to gentle for his rashness, but as much as he tried to forget about last night the more it bothered him. He could still feel her hand on his face, her soft, milky skin cooling his mind. He’d been too close. He should have fed after the execution but his anger prevented any such task. Now she knew the truth and he had lost her.

He strolled down the path, retracing his steps from last night, secretly hoping Josephine would appear. He walked toward the roses, their rich colors intoxicating him. He noticed the white roses, their petals spread to receive the sun, clear tears of moisture clinging to its exterior. The rose was so innocent, so pure. It reminded Marco of her. She wore a similar one yesterday. How it made her shine. Plucking one from the bush, he rubbed the stem between his fingers until a thorn pricked his thumb drawing blood. He licked his wound and walked back into the house. On the couch sat Josephine, her face streamed with tears.

“Josephine?”

“Phillipe hasn’t come back. What if he’s hurt?”

“He left last night?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he asked and she shook.

Marco rushed over to her side, but she cringed at his touch. He whispered, “I promise that I shall never hurt you.”

He wiped her tears away with his wounded thumb, leaving a faint trace of blood in his path. She grasped his hand and held it tightly until her knuckles gleamed white from the lack of blood. Josephine then let him go and walked across the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked angrily.

“I couldn’t,” he replied and looked away from her eyes.

“Why?” she insisted.

“Would you have kissed me if you knew the truth?” he asked instead, but he didn’t let her answer. “Would you have stayed knowing that I am a vampire, that I drink the blood of my victim’s, sacrificing their life to sustain my own? Would you have stayed if you knew that I could take your life unwillingly? Would you love…

“Yes,” she screamed and slapped his face. Josephine collapsed to the tiled floor, her hands masking her face, her body riddled with sobs like a wilted flower.

“No!” he said and knelt by her side. “You wouldn’t and I am damned.”

“You judge to swiftly,” she cried. “If you had mentioned it I probably would have been frightened, but I learned long ago that it’s better to face the situation rather than run away. You should at least have given me the chance. Now, all I have are images, paintings of your contorted face about to take my life.”

“I was not after your life,” Marco said, but he couldn’t be sure. What would he have done if he had succeeded?

“What were you after?”

“A companion,” he whispered and bowed his head. Josephine looked into his face and slowly reached out to touch him. He felt her soft fingers on his cheek and he breathed deeply. There was no blood lust this time. He could only hear his heart as something wonderful grew in his chest, spreading into every muscle of his body. He did love her.

“Senior, there are some men looking for the lady. Shall I let them in?”

“Who is it?” he asked and looked at the female servant who had entered the room. Marco stood and took Josephine’s hand, gently pulling her off the floor.

“It is the Capitán and his soldados.”

“Mon Dieu! They’ve come for me!” Josephine cried clinging to Marco. He lifted her chin and stared into her streaked face.

“Go to the servant quarters and stay there,” he said. “I will not let them in this house!”

He kissed her lightly and ran out of the room. Approaching the door, he grabbed his sword off the wall and hid it behind his back. The servant opened the door and there stood Montoya with five soldiers, each armed with a bayonet.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marco demanded, his anger swelling at the captain’s grim smile.

“I’m afraid I bring bad tidings to Lady Josephine. Is she around?”

“She has gone back home to France.”

“How unfortunate. Now she will never know her brother’s fate,” Montoya said and stepped to one side as two soldiers dropped the corpse at Marco’s feet. Dried blood bathed Phillipe’s face and chest outlining deep blade wounds. The brother’s eyes stared out into space, a look of horror forever frozen on his countenance.

“This is absurd!”

“I warned you Marco. Phillipe should not have come. It was unfortunate I had to kill him. I would have liked to have left him for my soldiers. Traitors deserve the worst executions and I fear the Lady will have to be next.”

“I told you. She left early this morning. She should be in Jalisco by now. I’m afraid you’ve missed her.”

The captain barked some words at his soldiers and two of them left. Montoya looked at Marco. “I should arrest you for harboring traitors. If you weren’t such a respected man, I’d kill you myself.”

“A pity. I would have enjoyed killing you,” he said and began to close the door. The captain pushed it open and stepped aside again. Three soldiers dragged Josephine to the front steps, her hair clinging to a face still stained with blood until she noticed the body on the floor. Then she howled.

“Phillipe!” she cried as the captain went up and slapped her.

“Whore. You should have stayed in France.”

Marco’s knuckles turned pinkish red as his hand tightened around the blade. If he struck now, he would have to leave his home, his solace, but he would be losing her. The captain grinned at him and bowed as they led her away. Her screams stabbed his soul, wounding his love, but there was nothing he could do. He would have to wait till night fall before he could break her out, and her freedom would set him free.

*******

At nightfall he mounted his horse and rode into the city of Guanajuato. Clouds covered the sky and extinguished any light the moon had to offer. Only the pale glow of the street lamps illuminated his journey down the cobbled streets leading to the prison. Not a soul stirred and Marco had only himself for company. He hated himself. He needed to get her back and if it meant killing the captain, no remorse would plague his conscience. Her companionship would end the years of loneliness.

The prison loomed before him, a stoned fortress surrounded by guards at each corner. Marco tied the mare to a tree a few avenues away from the prison. Wrapping his poncho around him, he sneaked into the darkness. He passed one guard and almost ran into another one as he followed the walls towards the entrance. Two guards stood on each side of the gates, their eyes searching any suspicious movement. Marco decided to walk right up to them.

“Halt!”

Marco stopped as they pointed their bayonets at his chest.

“What is your business?” one of them demanded.

“I’ve come to speak to the captain about a particular prisoner, a woman.”

“No woman was brought beyond these gates and the captain doesn’t meet with visitors this late at night.”

“He will speak to me. You can tell him an old friend is in need of his time.”

“The captain isn’t here,” the other soldier answered.

“Thank you for your time,” Marco said, and began to turn as their bayonets left his breast. They relaxed their position a second long enough for Marco to strike and break their necks. The only sound escaping into the night was the crunching of bones beneath his grip. He dragged their bodies into a near by ditch and then walked through the prison. On a wall he found a list of prisoners names. Josephine’s cell lay towards the end of the hall, two guards posted at each side of the cell. He glided down the cells, his boots barely touching the stone surface. Unlike the other guards whose deaths he kept silent, these guards would be heard. He unsheathed his sword and stabbed the first one before he could cry out, but the other guard shouted for help. They were the only shouts heard before Marco plunged into his neck, breaking it as he drained the body of blood.

“Whose there?” a voice called from inside the cell.

“Its Marco,” he said and opened the cell. She ran out, flying into his arms. He held her trembling body, pressing his lips against her hair.

“You came for me?”

“I couldn’t leave you.”

“You should have,” said the captain as he stepped out of the cell next door. He pointed his rifle at Marco. “I suspected you would come.”

“Let her go. I’ll give you my life for hers.”

“How about I take both your lives and rid Mexico of traitors such as yourselves? I’d be a hero,” he said and fired. Marco pushed Josephine out of the rifle’s path, and flung himself at the captain, knocking him unconscious. The bullet struck the stone wall behind him, echoing down the hallway.

“Run!” he cried grabbing Josephine. He held her hand and led her down the same path, their footsteps alerting the guards on the second floor. Torches dropped to the ground illuminating their bodies as they raced towards the gates, but no one followed after them. Marco pushed the gates open and led Josephine towards his mare.

*******

They watched the sunrise the next day from behind the hills. The sun’s glow warmed their skin and reminded Marco that they were both still alive. Josephine rested her head against his chest. He wondered if it would be his last. Josephine clasped his hand and squeezed it tightly as men on horseback approached their hill. She would be joining them soon, and then he would have to say goodbye.

“I have to go,” she whispered in his ear. How he wished he’d never heard her.

“No.”

“Yes. Phillipe wanted me to continue his cause. I have to do this for him, I have to do it for Mexico, for freedom. It is the only way. I wish you would come with me.”

Marco shook his head. “This is my home. I can not leave the place where I lived for almost a century. But it will always be open to you if you should ever come back.”

“Will it be here when I return. The captain will come after you, but I will come back and hope you are alive and then we can be together.”

Her words rested in his heart, but he feared them false. She was right. The captain would come to arrest him, but he knew he would be safe. Marco lowered his face to hers and kissed her. This was his chance. He could take her now, change her, transform her body and bless her with his immortality, but she would hate him for it. He let her go.

“Come back to me,” he whispered in her ear and then added, “my love.”

“I love you,” she moaned, and hugged him tightly. He cursed himself.

Marco handed over the reigns of his mare, and helped her on. She smiled at him, traced his face with her hands, then down his shoulders until she was holding his hands, and kissed him once more. Marco felt her place an object in his palm.

“Don’t say goodbye,” he said and slapped the horse.

He wondered if he would see her again, his beloved, as she left. She reached the bottom of the hill while Marco headed down the other side towards his home of shadows. He glanced at his hand and unclenched it. He noticed the wound in his thumb had reopened and had stained the white rose petal he now held.

She will return.