“Aren’t those poisonous?” Nuncio asked while his sister washed down slices of striped fish with white wine.

“Only if the chef messed up so here’s to hoping.” Elysa said while having another slice and then offered the plate to Nuncio: “Want some?”

Nuncio bit his lip but then decided to roll the dice and tasted the fish. It was oddly flavorless for such an expensive dish.

“It doesn’t taste like anything.” Nuncio said.

“Best poisons never do.” Elysa said.

They ate the plate empty while Nuncio tried imagining both falling over dead and leaving their father’s plans and dreams in ruins. Dreams that were their nightmares.

“My children.”

A shiver ran down Nuncio’s spine when he heard father’s voice and Elysa closed her eyes when she went inside herself. She had told him about that place. The place inside her mind where no one could hurt her.

Time slowed down and the air tasted colder when Pietro Capello walked over to them with… the lost viscount in tow. The feared Lionheart looked like a child trapped in a man’s body. Scared and confused. Glancing at monsters just out of sight. Pietro reached out and took Elysa’s hand that he tied around the viscount’s arm.

“Why don’t you too get to know each other better? Its only proper. You will be married soon and remember; daddy dearest wants grandchildren.” Pietro said.

Revulsion almost made Nuncio spew out the striped fish, but fear was stronger than his disgust. Fear that only became stronger when Pietro looked at him.

“As for you, Nuncio. I want to discuss something with you. In private.”

A cold hand ripped at Nuncio’s stomach and Elysa looked at him with hopeless sadness.

“… Nuncio… be strong.” Elysa said.

Pietro put his talons on Nuncio’s shoulder and started leading him away… when the viscount grabbed the vampire’s wrist. A fire had returned to the viscount’s green eyes and while he was still lost, there was no longer confusion in his gaze.

“He… doesn’t want… to go.” The viscount said, fighting to get every word out.

Pietro almost bit his lip but then just smiled. He met the viscount’s gaze and cowed him back into submission with hypnotism.

“He goes where I tell him.” Pietro said.

Elysa was left alone with the enslaved viscount while Pietro led him away. Into an empty room. When they were alone, Nuncio closed his eyes and bit his lips. Soon he felt his father’s talons at his throat. Loosening his tie and opening the top buttons of his shirt.

“The viscount’s will might be strong, but no one can resist me. Not for long.” Pietro said.

“… father…” Nuncio pleaded.

“I am famished, and family’s blood is the most nourishing. A pity Danielle couldn’t give me two daughters, but you’ll have to do. Your uses have always been few.”

There was a flash of pain when Pietro’s fangs found the veins in his neck and then… that sickening sweetness that was even worse than pain. It made him feel filthy and disgusting and that sweetness… lingered far longer than the pain.

Finally, it ended, and Pietro licked his lips clean before wiping them with a handkerchief. Nuncio had to lean against a wall to support himself, but he would not let his knees buckle. He would not show such weakness in front of the monster who had ruined his family’s life and gotten away with it.

“Thank you, Nuncio. Now try to stay out of the way and not make a fuss. This is a big night for the family.”

When Pietro finally left him alone, Nuncio let himself fall over. His mind was clouded and his throat sore… and he felt filthy. Disgusting. Repulsive. Eventually he could stand again, and he dragged himself to the two cars that they had driven here with. The cool night air eased the pain from the bite and cleared his mind. If only a little.

He opened the car door and then the glove compartment.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A small revolver had been stashed inside. Bought in secret from his father for an easy way out. Which one of his decisions had brought him here? To this moment? He wished he could have just hit gas and driven away. To a place where no one knows him. Where his father couldn’t find him. Where no one knew him. He just wanted to fade away. And he would have… if it hadn’t meant leaving his sister and mother behind.

“Well, well, well… don’t you look like shit?”

Nuncio flinched at the sound of the voice and stuffed the revolver back in the glove compartment. When he looked up, he saw a young Romani dressed like a gentleman and with eyes that shined like blue diamonds. His neatly groomed beard hid how young he was.

“What… I…” Nuncio said and then bit his lip: “I know you. Salvatore Torrini. The viscount’s gypsy advisor.”

Torrini smirked.

“My notoriety precedes me. And you are Nuncio Capello. See? I know things too.”

“Guess we both do.” Nuncio said.

“Seems like it.” Torrini said and looked at the mansion: “Not in the mood for partying?”

“I… Can’t say I am.”

“Same problem. I make people uncomfortable.” Torrini said and took out a flask.

The scent of brandy filled the night when he opened the cap and drank.

“To be honest… I kinda enjoy it these days but this is a big business transaction and discretion is… the better part of wisdom.” Torrini said and offered him the flask: “A drink?”

“… sure.”

Nuncio took the flask and had a sip. Some people liked to drown their sorrows in booze, but Nuncio’s problems floated. At least the brandy eased the soreness in his throat.

“It’s good.” Nuncio said when he handed back the flask.

“It better be. I paid good money for it. Or someone did at any rate. Now… seeing how neither of us are in the mood for merry making, wanna do something we’ll both regret in the morning?” Torrini said and dangled the car keys father had gifted to the viscount in front of his eyes: “How does a car date with me sound?”

Nuncio stared at the keys and Torrini for a moment.

“I’m not sure I…”

The keys disappeared inside Torrini’s closed hand.

“Well… worth a shot.” Torrini said and walked past him to the other car: “Before I drive to my doom… can you do me a solid one and tell me how to start this thing?”

Nuncio bit his lip.

“You… you don’t know how to drive?”

“Not yet but I intend to learn or die trying. Probably both. My lord’s orders.”

“Are you crazy?” Nuncio said.

Torrini flashed him another smirk.

“Like a fox.”

Nuncio sighed and opened the car door for Torrini.

“Get in. I am driving. You can watch and learn.”

“Oh my. I love it when you take charge like that, darling.” Torrini said and left the keys to his car on the driver’s seat.

Nuncio rolled his eyes but also felt his cheeks warm up. He turned the keys while pressing gas and the car came roaring to life. He hit reverse and sent the pebbles in the yard flying when he turned the car towards the road. Then he hit the gas and he drove into the night. The sadistic part in him hoped that he had made Torrini nervous but when he glanced at him, he was grinning.

“You always go all out like this?” Nuncio said while driving.

“Excess, my dear Nuncio, is the Path to wisdom. You wanna learn how to walk? Better learn how to run first.” Torrini said.

“Wild.”

Nuncio had wanted to get a reaction out of Torrini. Something besides self-indulgent smirks and tipsy cockiness. With one word he succeeded in just that and Torrini looked at him surprised.

“What?”

“Excess is the Path to wisdom. First tenet of the Wild.” Nuncio said.

The blue eyes narrowed, and it was almost like Torrini was looking at him with new eyes… or maybe really looking at him for the first time.

“You know about the Eight Paths of The Wyrding?”

Nuncio thought about the dragon he had met years ago.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Lucky you. Everything I know I learned in clown college and what a mess that led me into.” Torrini said and looked at his hands like it was a tool he didn’t quite know how to use: “The only thing I’ve learned… that I’m sure of is that… being a human is harder than being a beast.”

“Deep.” Nuncio said.

“And that… is another Path but I’m sure you knew that.” Torrini said.

Nuncio bit his lip when he thought of Old Flea and his carriage pulled by kelpies.

“I did.”

While Nuncio drove, Leoden rose before them. The Red City built with bricks and blood. The tall towers could have been the heads of spears ready to gore any invader that dared to attack it. It had stood for a thousand years, and legend had it that the bones of King Eld had been buried somewhere in the city. As long as the King of Fire stayed in his city, it would bow to no conqueror. High walls had once surrounded the entire city but as it had expanded further and further, the bricks from the walls had been used for new building projects. In the middle of the city stood the royal palace with its onion-shaped roof that shined like a jewel in the star light.

You could see the Red City from afar, but you could smell it even further.

The greatest city in Garuccia was home to over a million people and the stench a million people produced was something that could rot a country pumpkin’s nose in a week. Maybe even sooner. The Red Stream ran through the city and Nuncio had always thought that a more accurate name would have been the Brown Stream. If it had been any filthier, you could have walked over it.

“Can you drive this thing in the city?” Torrini asked.

“If you know the right roads.” Nuncio said.

Torrini flashed him a smirk.

“I worry we won’t be in any condition to drive when the night is over. The Rossis own property here. We can park the car there.”

“Works for me.”

Nuncio drove the car through the Stone Gate that had once been the only entrance into the city and slowed to crawl when they got to the cobbled streets. The city had been built in a haphazard fashion and the streets were a maze you could lose yourself in.

That was when Torrini groaned.

“Goddamn it.”

When he followed Torrini’s gaze, Nuncio spotted two coppers standing in the shadows of the tall buildings. Both were dressed in blue uniforms and black helmets. Hard batons and handcuffs hung from their belts, and he didn’t doubt they had guns hidden under their uniforms. A resigned sigh slipped out of Torrini, and he took out his wallet.

“Great. Just great.” Torrini said and emptied his wallet: “Looks like the first round is on you.”

A forced smiled appeared on Torrini’s lips when the cops walked up to them. The shorter one had the face of a weasel with a spark of cunning in his pale eyes. The bigger copper had the muscles of a bull. They walked and breathed in perfect unison like one soul split into two bodies.

“Evening, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem and is this enough to solve it?” Torrini said.

Torrini presented them the money like an offering to a false god. The money disappeared in the Weasel’s pockets and nasty grin showed yellow teeth.

“I don’t know. What do you say, my friend?”

The Bull just grunted in response while staring at the car with obvious greed.

“Well said. Now this is a nice toy you boys have. Who did you steal it from, gypsy?” The Weasel said.

“It was a gift from his family.” Torrini said and nodded at Nuncio.

“And who did his family steal it from?” The Weasel said.

Nuncio gripped the wheel harder and chewed his lip. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. You learned to sense danger when your father was a vampire.

“Why don’t you get out of the car, gypsy?” The Weasel said.

Nuncio almost hit the gas and drove off but before he could move his foot, Torrini had already climbed out of the car. All the while he kept his hands up to show he wasn’t armed or a threat.

“Look… you know who I am and who I work for. I respect the hustle but the viscount…”

It was always the blows you didn’t see coming that got you. The Bull slammed his fist in the back of Torrini’s head and he fell over without a sound.

“Jesus Christ!” Nuncio screamed.

There was a wet smack when Torrini hit the cobbled street and the Bull punched him a few more times to make sure he stayed down. Windows above them opened but when they saw the police uniforms, the residents shut their windows quickly and closed their curtains.

While the Bull cuffed Torrini, the Weasel leaned against the car and flashed him a yellow smile.

“Why don’t you drive along now, kid, and tell your daddy that it has been done? We won’t be hearing from the gypsy again.”