Page 26 of Besieger
At times of war or turmoil, Ingenuar had said.
The Berlin Coven lay outside the city walls, one ventured there only with the intent of finding it. It existed in its own bubble. By contrast, the Béziers coven was nested neatly in the middle of the growing city, with its own driveway, gardens and stable.
Our new home. A home that is not a cage obtained through lies and shared with a mistress.
They were greeted by Monsieur Corbin, a man in his forties with a well-groomed goatee which gave him a stern appearance. His chestnut hair streaked with grey under the light of the torches. Behind him stood the valet and the housekeeper, their heads bowed. The stablehand had gone to see to their horses, and make arrangements for the carriage. The rest of the staff was waiting for them in the entrance hall consisting of a few maids and hall boys.They all look so young, so eager, Silvio thought and was reminded of the servants at the Coven.
His eyes swept the line of people, selecting two hall boys and a maid. When he entered their minds their faces flickered with shock, their bodies shot up straight, until a soft flush coloured their cheeks—one of the hall boys gave out a startled yelp. The valet frowned at the boy, making a mental note to reprimand him later, but Silvio was pleased. The trio made a small bow and hurried out, heading downstairs to the lower floors. Silvio had given the mortals their first order for the evening. His only regret was that he would not be there to watch them carry it out.
“My lord,” the valet stepped forward, still frowning at the sudden disruption of his disciplined line, “Monsieur Corbin had advised against preparing dinner at so late an hour. Arrangements can still be made if you—”
“That will not be necessary,” Silvio lifted his hand and motioned for the housekeeper to come forward. “You have all been made aware of our dietary preferences and our routines, have you not?”
The woman nodded. A ring of keys dangled from her belt and Silvio wondered which one was for the master bedroom. He would have to remove it from that ring later.
“Some of the staff may have to adjust to the late hours we keep. All business and matters of the house during the day are to be directed to Monsieur Corbin in my stead.”
The woman nodded, but her eyes looked over his shoulder at Emerick. She appeared to be waiting for someone else to walk in.She is searching for the Marchioness.A muscle twitched on Silvio’s face, the smile now forced.
“ComteGabrielli,” Silvio presented his lover. “You are to obey and treat him as you would obey me.”
Deny him nothing. The command washed out of him and permeated the air. The servants nodded as one, their unblinking eyes fixed on Silvio. He was not going to strip them of their free will, they could come and go into the tower and work for him if they wished. But he would have his lover raised as far as possiblefrom the station of a footman. This coven would have two masters or none at all.
Silvio’s eyes trailed over the interior, dismissing the staff and his secretary to their duties. He wanted to inspect the building without unnecessary distractions. It was ironic that in all the centuries he had lived, this would be the first place he called home; the first house designed to his needs and wants.
A staircase was to the left, the only one in the entire structure, built into the cylindrical tower, leading to the upper floors, the basement and the underground levels. The ground floor housed a drawing room, a dining room and the library. Their bedroom and the guest rooms were on the upper floors, while the staff was quartered in the garret. The entrance hall bound all the rooms together and he could see through the open bronze doors the opulence and splendour of the murals on the walls, the heavy draperies cascading from the tall windows, the massive fireplaces crowned with carved overmantels. Small fires burned everywhere, illuminating the gold frames of the mirrors and the frescos in the library. Even the ceilings were painted and gilded in gold, angels and demons reaching out to them from every corner, their faces twisted in agony and ecstasy. The floor under his feet resembled a mosaic, a labyrinth of pieces, coaxing him to follow and explore more of the tower.
Silvio recalled from the designs how the library opened onto the garden, with a separate door leading into the drawing room. He had ordered all the windows on the ground floor to be stained glass, cut in various shapes and sizes. Some like tears running down, or sun rays, while others depicted warriors clashing with shields and swords, brightened by the light of the fire. The walls were lined with bookshelves, climbing up to the very ceiling, filled with the leather-bound volumes and scrolls Silvio and Emerick had collected over the centuries. One corner of the room was reserved for the maps and atlases from Emerick’s collection—the ones he was too fond of to leave behind—and a little hand-drawn globe of the world. Lush armchairs andottomans awaited their masters to lounge by the fireplace or by the window. In the centre stretched a long table broad enough to serve as a desk. A cigarette case stood by a silver tray full of crystal glasses and a bottle Silvio knew to be brandy, never to wet his lips. Monsieur Corbin had assured him that the wine cellar was well-stocked and ready to accommodate guests as soon as the Marquis moved in. A collection of sweet wines waited to be guzzled by the kitchen staff and by whatever humans would come to pay their respects.
“You look drained,” Emerick’s voice brought Silvio to attention. “Shall we go and have a taste of the locals? Or retire for the evening?”
“Not yet,” he shook his head and walked towards the staircase. “There is something I would like to show you. In the basement.”
“Is it the coffins?” Emerick raised his eyebrows, visibly disappointed and forlorn. “You know I hate sleeping in crypts.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Silvio called over his shoulder, descending the stairs. Even if they came across a servant, none would understand their Latin. “For someone who dislikes sleeping in a coffin you do insist on sharing. But no,” he stopped and looked up at Emerick who was still standing on the landing, “it is not a crypt. It is something better.”
The further they went, the hotter the air became. The moisture clung to their faces and clothes, making Emerick huff in agitation. Vampires thrived in the dark and cold but every room in their new home defied that. As if they were hungrily searching for the warmth of day—fire burned bright from chandeliers, torches and fireplaces.
A vast compartment greeted them when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Bronze benches lined the walls. The massive stone figures oftelamones; naked warriors were bent under the weight of the arched ceiling, their dead eyes boring into them, as they crossed the stone floor. The ceiling was adorned with stuccoand painted in reds and browns. There were folded towels and jars on one of the benches.
“Come,” Silvio urged him onward and walked to the doorway to their right, past the benches and into a veil of rising steam.
The sound of rushing water and fountains reverberated around them, bouncing off the mosaics covering every surface, from the columns supporting the ceiling, to the murals on either side. More depictions of naked bodies, men and women adorned the space, entangled in passion, and nymphs dancing across streams, running from their pursuers, only to fall into the water and be ravaged by the titans of the seas.
There was a fountain in the centre of the pool shaped like a man, prostrated on a wall of clams and shells, the water poured from his mouth and eyes, his back arched in ecstasy. He was surrounded by smaller fountains in the shape of lions, the water rushed out of their wide-open, fanged mouths. Silvio had chosen blue tiles for the mosaic, meant to lend the water the illusion of pristine clarity, had there been windows to shine their light upon it. But they had to rely on lanterns to illuminate the splendour of the bathhouse.
“Thermae!” Emerick whispered, his voice trembled with excitement, eyes darting across the room. “You built athermae.”
He started to laugh, gasping for air, the heat had made him dizzy. His hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks, drenched in sweat but his eyes shone, taking in everything. Emerick went to step closer to the edge of the pool, but halted, sensing movement in the shadows.
A young maid stepped forward first, her eyes lowered, cheeks flushed. Following her example, the two hall boys re-emerged, their hands carrying boxes full of soaps, perfumes and oils. Like Silvio had instructed them, they had changed into linen undergarments which were already soaked through. In their minds he saw how the three had filled their time waiting, immersing themselves in the water, partaking in the splendour.Their faces glowed from both the steam and how they had lost themselves, playing in the pool.
Silvio smiled, whispering in the mortals’ heads that they had done well. He meant for them to enjoy these riches, and he would keep rewarding them.Get him ready for me, he breathed in the folds of their minds. He hardly needed to give them further instructions; the mortals’ eager expression suggested they had some ideas on how to handle and tease his lover.
One of the hall boys—a dark-haired youth scarcely twenty-two and the tallest of the three—took the lead. He walked up to Emerick, murmured a fretful ‘my lord’ and began undoing theComte’s clothes. The maid followed, falling on her hands and knees to take off Emerick’s riding boots. Finally, the second hall boy joined them, reaching to tie the long hair out of the way, and pull at the waistcoat and shirt.
“S-Sil?” Emerick called, and Silvio had to restrain himself. The confusion in his lover’s voice was quickly replaced by a hungry whimper.
