the threshold.
I blinked against the brilliant light, then saw that we had entered the eastern apse. The walls of the semicircular room were fashioned of pale wood, and the floor was tiled with ivory. Little ebony sconces set with wax candles protruded in at least a dozen places from the walls, producing the illumination that bounced off the walls and floor. A brazier sat in the center of the room. Some dried vegetation had recently been thrown over the flame. It gave off a rich, calming aroma along with its milky smoke. My eyes flashed to the ceiling only long enough to glimpse the mural of a strutting peacock gazing down on us. As I followed the vampire monk toward the ambulatory, I detected a sour, putrid smell to the air that the incense could not completely mask.
My guide was silent as we proceeded past the crowded cedar walls of the ambulatory. His shoulders slumped ever more with each passing step. At length we reached a wall of black stone. It was a curious obstacle; I would have thought this way led to the high altar, though I kept my musing to myself. A rounded marble lintel thrust out, and beneath this was a door of the pale wood as found in the apse. The vampire raised the knuckles of his right hand. With a flash of a repulsed glimpse to me, he knocked.
Within a moment, the door opened, and he gestured me before him with an exaggerated bow. As I stepped into the room beyond, my nostrils were overcome with the invisible waves of a smell much like refined ambergris. The circular room was large, paneled in the costliest mahogany, and carpeted with thick indigo rugs. Black lace curtains sparkling with jewels hung haphazardly from ruby pegs on the ceiling, which, I noticed briefly, was muraled, too, with the titanic image of a masculine face. This face was beautiful, exotic, haloed by waves of black hair, and dominated by a pair of languid Aegean-blue eyes. It took only seconds to realize it was the same face from which the statue outside had been depicted.
I only regarded it a second, maybe two; but as my attention returned to the room, I saw a lithe figure moving toward us from out of the curtains of black lace. The vampire guide bowed low as a pair of gold-sandaled feet glided into view.
She was more statuesque than I remembered, an inch or so taller than myself. The perfume of her body was so potent that my brain was momentarily addled. Her high-throated gown was of peacock blue silk, and her hair was piled in soft waves atop her head, and pinned with pearled and silver-leafed combs.
The moment I looked into her face, my chest panged with desire. The lashes of her long hazel eyes were naturally thick and dark. I noticed for the first time the beauty mark at the left corner of her wide, sensual mouth, and how perfectly sculpted were her subtly arched eyebrows. She regarded me with a strange pout as she laid one hand upon a hip and tapped the fabric of her gown there with her long, ruby-hued nails.
My every masculine sensibility felt lulled, tempted, drugged, aroused. It was not only her incomparable beauty and flawless physique, but the smell of her, and the unseen and confident aura that clung to her as uniquely and surely as her own skin. I knew she had every right to be so proud. Perfect in every physical detail, highlight, curve, and abstraction.
Not like Carina, with her short-lived mortal beauty and limited human potentials.
If this thought had come from my own mind, or was offered by Griselda herself, I did not want to know.
All my desire for Carina was welcomingly cast away. I spoke with the voice of the intoxicated lover, the impassioned challenger, the constant worshipper.
I fell to one knee and lowered my head before Griselda. “I have been mistaken,” I said humbly. “In your presence, I have found all that I have sought. I am yours, Griselda—and willingly surrender the secrets that will free you.”
She stepped toward me and placed a sandaled foot upon my thrust knee. My eyes swept up
I blinked against the brilliant light, then saw that we had entered the eastern apse. The walls of the semicircular room were fashioned of pale wood, and the floor was tiled with ivory. Little ebony sconces set with wax candles protruded in at least a dozen places from the walls, producing the illumination that bounced off the walls and floor. A brazier sat in the center of the room. Some dried vegetation had recently been thrown over the flame. It gave off a rich, calming aroma along with its milky smoke. My eyes flashed to the ceiling only long enough to glimpse the mural of a strutting peacock gazing down on us. As I followed the vampire monk toward the ambulatory, I detected a sour, putrid smell to the air that the incense could not completely mask.
My guide was silent as we proceeded past the crowded cedar walls of the ambulatory. His shoulders slumped ever more with each passing step. At length we reached a wall of black stone. It was a curious obstacle; I would have thought this way led to the high altar, though I kept my musing to myself. A rounded marble lintel thrust out, and beneath this was a door of the pale wood as found in the apse. The vampire raised the knuckles of his right hand. With a flash of a repulsed glimpse to me, he knocked.
Within a moment, the door opened, and he gestured me before him with an exaggerated bow. As I stepped into the room beyond, my nostrils were overcome with the invisible waves of a smell much like refined ambergris. The circular room was large, paneled in the costliest mahogany, and carpeted with thick indigo rugs. Black lace curtains sparkling with jewels hung haphazardly from ruby pegs on the ceiling, which, I noticed briefly, was muraled, too, with the titanic image of a masculine face. This face was beautiful, exotic, haloed by waves of black hair, and dominated by a pair of languid Aegean-blue eyes. It took only seconds to realize it was the same face from which the statue outside had been depicted.
I only regarded it a second, maybe two; but as my attention returned to the room, I saw a lithe figure moving toward us from out of the curtains of black lace. The vampire guide bowed low as a pair of gold-sandaled feet glided into view.
She was more statuesque than I remembered, an inch or so taller than myself. The perfume of her body was so potent that my brain was momentarily addled. Her high-throated gown was of peacock blue silk, and her hair was piled in soft waves atop her head, and pinned with pearled and silver-leafed combs.
The moment I looked into her face, my chest panged with desire. The lashes of her long hazel eyes were naturally thick and dark. I noticed for the first time the beauty mark at the left corner of her wide, sensual mouth, and how perfectly sculpted were her subtly arched eyebrows. She regarded me with a strange pout as she laid one hand upon a hip and tapped the fabric of her gown there with her long, ruby-hued nails.
My every masculine sensibility felt lulled, tempted, drugged, aroused. It was not only her incomparable beauty and flawless physique, but the smell of her, and the unseen and confident aura that clung to her as uniquely and surely as her own skin. I knew she had every right to be so proud. Perfect in every physical detail, highlight, curve, and abstraction.
Not like Carina, with her short-lived mortal beauty and limited human potentials.
If this thought had come from my own mind, or was offered by Griselda herself, I did not want to know.
All my desire for Carina was welcomingly cast away. I spoke with the voice of the intoxicated lover, the impassioned challenger, the constant worshipper.
I fell to one knee and lowered my head before Griselda. “I have been mistaken,” I said humbly. “In your presence, I have found all that I have sought. I am yours, Griselda—and willingly surrender the secrets that will free you.”
She stepped toward me and placed a sandaled foot upon my thrust knee. My eyes swept up
Similar Books
