Chapter 1
Frost stiffened grass crunched under Christian Demicco’s feet as he proceeded up the steep hill after a small rest from climbing. His lungs were burning from the cold air, and his stomach growled, begging for sustenance. His muscles burned with every step, but he had to keep on.
The sky above him was a vast, dark blue sea, the thin clouds were like the crests of a wave, with sea foam riding on top, and the evening blue was like the trough. The stars in this part of the world were so different. They reminded Christian of the days when they were strewn haphazardly across the sky. Sadly enough, even this sky couldn’t compare to the sky a hundred years ago.
As he reached the peak of the hill, he saw a small tent resting on a grey rock that jutted out from the mount at a ninety degree angle. It was emblazoned with thick purple and white stripes. He rubbed his weary eyes and realized that there were at least a hundred more like it, resting on similar rocks.
He realized he had found the gypsy camp he was looking for. Now all he needed to do was find the Lady Nile, if she even existed. She was the only person who could reveal the truth to him; she was the only way he could be cured of his affliction.
The music from a strange instrument snapped him back into reality. The sound reminded him of a cross between a banjo and a mandolin. He could smell fish roasting over the Tagaala people’s fires. They probably caught them from the stream he passed only an hour ago. He climbed higher and higher, and he soon made out the sound of tambourines clashing along with the strange instrument. It all felt so surreal.
As he reached the first tent he had saw, a young boy ran up to him and grinned, beckoning him deeper into the camp. The Tagaala all had thick, glistening black hair and olive skin. They also appeared to have an affinity for purple. Purple jewels, purple blankets, a few young women had even dyed their hair a dark shade of purple.
He headed deeper into the camp with the child. He didn’t know where he was being led, but he felt safe around the Tagaala. What could go wrong? These people seemed so friendly.
Christian smiled as the citizens threw the shells of nuts at him, jokingly. Christian couldn’t feel sad around these people, he couldn’t feel angry either. All he felt was delight as they danced. Christian realized he could easily get lost in these people’s joy, but he had a mission.
Just as Christian was about to ask the young man who was guiding him along to stop, the boy did, right in front of a tent much like the others that surrounded it. “This is the lady Nile’s place, you want to speak wither her, no?” The boy asked, grinning. Christian was baffled. How could the child have known? But then he saw it in the boys grin. The elongated fangs told the story. He was a vampire, and sadly, this boy had to drink blood. Christian was born with an option; he was a pranna vampire, as well as a blood drinker. Very few people were born the way Christian had been.
“Thank you sir,” Christian said, rustling the child’s hair, “God be with you.” Christian handed the boy a silver coin from the pouch that hung around his waist. He then turned to the tent. Shadows flickered across the canvas, but he couldn’t tell anything from them. He pulled back the flap and called out, “Hello?”
No one answered him at first, so he glanced around the inside of the shelter. A kerosene lamp filled with purple oil burned to heat the room as well as illuminate it. A bear skin rung appeared to serve as a rudimentary bed. A pile of animal bones lay smoldering in ashes, after a moment, Christian saw that they had markings on them. He could also smell some strange incense.
He never actually realized when the young woman with raven black hair entered the room. Her eyes were just as dark as her glistening locks. Her skin was a contrast to that of the other gypsies; her’s was a pale, milky white color with little roses blossoming on the cheeks.
“Are you Nile?” Christian asked, this woman was beautiful, he had expected a craggy faced old lady, whose beauty was marred by age.
She simply nodded in response, and beckoned Christian closer. He felt as though his cheeks had caught flame. This woman carried a strange presence. “Kneel down,” she said, and Christian did. She stretched out her hand, and pressed it against Christian’s brow. It felt like ice.
“You know this very well, everything good comes for a price,” she whispered, her voice was smooth and sweet. For Christian, it felt like biting into a fresh peach in the summer time. Christian had expected a charge, especially from a gypsy. He reached into his overcoat’s breast pocket and removed a golden time piece.
“Is this enough?” He asked. “I don’t have anything else to give you, please, is this enough?”
Nile smiled, “Keep it, it won’t be of use to me soon,” she said. “Now lay back, this could be painful, but you are ready. You need to see.”
Christian had a thousand questions coursing through his head, how did she know what he wanted? What would he see? Was his past as tragic as it felt? Who made his life the way it was?
“Take a deep breath, we’ll begin now.”
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