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was a vampire bacchanalia.
It was what being a vampire was all about.
After that, Dru spoke of Spain and wanting very much to go there. Darla refused to go; she had very
bad memories of the Spanish Inquisition, not a happy time for creatures of the night. Despite the focus on
the Inquisition s barbarity in dealing with human beings accused of witchcraft and heresy, truth was the
monks and priests had significantly reduced the power of evil in the world.
Darla demanded to stay in the Balkans. Spike seized the moment and suggested he accompany Dru to
Spain alone accent on alone, thank you very much while Angel squired his sire.
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So it was decided, with Drusilla acting a bit crestfallen. They would meet later in the year in Bucharest.
But, of course, they never did.
Darla and Angelus returned to the Romany woods, ranging over the countryside like the wolves that
sang to them at night.
It was in this time that she introduced him to the Master, an ancient vampire whose name in life had been
Heinrich Joseph Nest. Angelus never saw him in other than his true face, and it was more demonic than
his own, very pale, almost ratlike. Angelus envied him his looks.
Darla was clearly one of the Master s favorites, and he took an instant liking to her bloodchild, Angel.
Eager to impress him with her judgment, she recounted many of Angelus s exploits to him. Soon Angelus
was numbered among the Master s inner circle, and he was known to say Angelus was the most vicious
creature he d ever met. He promised Angelus that come the day when his plans for domination of the
world came to fruition, Angelus would sit at his right hand.
In return, Angelus vowed loyalty and devotion to all the Master s causes. It was a promise not
undertaken lightly, and one he fully intended to keep.
At the time.
The idyllic year passed, moving into summer. Angelus had agreed to meet Spike and Drusilla in
September, and it was now August.
Perhaps Darla meant to keep him there, with her and the Master and the court. He never had a chance
to ask her.
One warm night they had laughed and loved together, wearing exotic silk kimonos one of the Master s
children had brought home from a rampage through Japan. Her cold skin beneath the silk stirred him; her
kisses inflamed him.
Then she led him through the woods for a midnight hunt. Some Romanies had arrived in the daytime and
chosen to park their wagons on the vampires hunting ground.
What sport, Angelus said quietly.
Look there, precious.
Darla pointed at the most beautiful human woman Angelus had ever laid eyes on. She wore a full, striped
skirt and a billowing white blouse, her splendid shape silhouetted by a tight waistcoat laced beneath her
bosom. She was barefoot, and on each ankle, chains of gold coins jingled. Her black hair was loose and
free, and her face . . . ah, the moon herself.
For you, Darla said generously. Knowing as I do that you appreciate the finer things in life.
They smiled at each other.
Then they parted, to dally with their prey. Darla would find a handsome young man, of that Angelus was
certain. Meantime . . .
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Hello, he said softly, coming upon the exquisite Gypsy as she strolled alone by the river.
She started. The frightened look on her face did not diminish as he stepped from the shadows. Her eyes
darted left, right.
He gestured to his mouth. I m thirsty.
She blinked. Pai? she asked in a soft, pleasing voice.
Pai, he agreed. He smiled kindly. He could hear her heart; it was thundering. She was mortally afraid.
I m staying with friends, and I wandered off, he said in English. I ve been walking through the forest
for hours.
With that, she took off. Angelus watched her go, highly amused, terrifically enchanted. He decided then
and there to woo her.
The look of horror and betrayal on her face when he took her life would make the kill all the sweeter.
And it did; it was the most wonderful kill of his life up until that point. She had come to him and said, in
the halting English he had taught, Angelus, I love you.
Then she had kissed him, quite sweetly. Contrary to common prejudice, Gypsy women, while
passionate, were chaste until marriage.
Since such a marriage never could, and never would, take place, Angelus decided that this was the
moment he would celebrate his triumph over her. He was careful to allow her to see his transformation;
more careful still to give her a head start before he threw her down and tore open her throat.
What Angelus had not realized was that he had been seen murdering the girl, whose name still eluded
him.
He had a rival, a brash Gypsy who had adored her, but considered himself unworthy of her. She was the
clan s favorite daughter, and he was only one of many cousins.
That didn t prevent him from loving her, and from wondering who it was who had claimed her heart.
Ashamed of himself, he had decided that very night to follow her.
And he had seen.
At the Gypsy camp the girl was lovingly laid out. Her burial gown was the best the clan possessed. The
keening of grief was a delightful ode to Angelus s savagery. On the path back to the Master s
underground lair, he stopped to listen. He had not expected them to find her so quickly. Now he was
torn between pretending to be drawn to the camp by the sound, to see what was amiss, or returning to
the Master s court to boast about his accomplishment.
* * *
Mulo, the Gypsy woman murmured. It was Gypsy for a dead person associated with uncleanness. It
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meant vampire.
She wore a shawl and had painted the seal on her forehead. She waved her hand over the Orb of
Thesulah and began the incantation:
Nici mort nici al fiintei,
Te invoc, spirit al trecerii
Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal
Cu ajurtorul acestui magic glod de cristal.
Not dead, nor not of the living.
Spirits of the interregnum, I call.
Restore to the corporal vessel that which separates
us from beast.
Use this orb as your guide.
In the forest a horrible pain ripped through Angelus. He stumbled, looking over his shoulder, trying to
see what had attacked him. There was obviously nothing in front of him.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
Never had he felt such terrible agony. He was being ripped apart inside, by an unseen enemy. He ran
through the woods, heedless of his direction.
He fell again, and this time he lost awareness for a brief moment.
As he got to his knees, groggy and bewildered, an old Gypsy approached and hovered over him.
It hurts, yes? he said in English. Good. It will hurt more.
Angelus was dazed. Where am I?
The man was contemptuous, bitter, filled with rage. You don t remember. Everything you ve done, for
a hundred years, in a moment, you will. The face of everyone you killed our daughter s face they [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
was a vampire bacchanalia.
It was what being a vampire was all about.
After that, Dru spoke of Spain and wanting very much to go there. Darla refused to go; she had very
bad memories of the Spanish Inquisition, not a happy time for creatures of the night. Despite the focus on
the Inquisition s barbarity in dealing with human beings accused of witchcraft and heresy, truth was the
monks and priests had significantly reduced the power of evil in the world.
Darla demanded to stay in the Balkans. Spike seized the moment and suggested he accompany Dru to
Spain alone accent on alone, thank you very much while Angel squired his sire.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
So it was decided, with Drusilla acting a bit crestfallen. They would meet later in the year in Bucharest.
But, of course, they never did.
Darla and Angelus returned to the Romany woods, ranging over the countryside like the wolves that
sang to them at night.
It was in this time that she introduced him to the Master, an ancient vampire whose name in life had been
Heinrich Joseph Nest. Angelus never saw him in other than his true face, and it was more demonic than
his own, very pale, almost ratlike. Angelus envied him his looks.
Darla was clearly one of the Master s favorites, and he took an instant liking to her bloodchild, Angel.
Eager to impress him with her judgment, she recounted many of Angelus s exploits to him. Soon Angelus
was numbered among the Master s inner circle, and he was known to say Angelus was the most vicious
creature he d ever met. He promised Angelus that come the day when his plans for domination of the
world came to fruition, Angelus would sit at his right hand.
In return, Angelus vowed loyalty and devotion to all the Master s causes. It was a promise not
undertaken lightly, and one he fully intended to keep.
At the time.
The idyllic year passed, moving into summer. Angelus had agreed to meet Spike and Drusilla in
September, and it was now August.
Perhaps Darla meant to keep him there, with her and the Master and the court. He never had a chance
to ask her.
One warm night they had laughed and loved together, wearing exotic silk kimonos one of the Master s
children had brought home from a rampage through Japan. Her cold skin beneath the silk stirred him; her
kisses inflamed him.
Then she led him through the woods for a midnight hunt. Some Romanies had arrived in the daytime and
chosen to park their wagons on the vampires hunting ground.
What sport, Angelus said quietly.
Look there, precious.
Darla pointed at the most beautiful human woman Angelus had ever laid eyes on. She wore a full, striped
skirt and a billowing white blouse, her splendid shape silhouetted by a tight waistcoat laced beneath her
bosom. She was barefoot, and on each ankle, chains of gold coins jingled. Her black hair was loose and
free, and her face . . . ah, the moon herself.
For you, Darla said generously. Knowing as I do that you appreciate the finer things in life.
They smiled at each other.
Then they parted, to dally with their prey. Darla would find a handsome young man, of that Angelus was
certain. Meantime . . .
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Hello, he said softly, coming upon the exquisite Gypsy as she strolled alone by the river.
She started. The frightened look on her face did not diminish as he stepped from the shadows. Her eyes
darted left, right.
He gestured to his mouth. I m thirsty.
She blinked. Pai? she asked in a soft, pleasing voice.
Pai, he agreed. He smiled kindly. He could hear her heart; it was thundering. She was mortally afraid.
I m staying with friends, and I wandered off, he said in English. I ve been walking through the forest
for hours.
With that, she took off. Angelus watched her go, highly amused, terrifically enchanted. He decided then
and there to woo her.
The look of horror and betrayal on her face when he took her life would make the kill all the sweeter.
And it did; it was the most wonderful kill of his life up until that point. She had come to him and said, in
the halting English he had taught, Angelus, I love you.
Then she had kissed him, quite sweetly. Contrary to common prejudice, Gypsy women, while
passionate, were chaste until marriage.
Since such a marriage never could, and never would, take place, Angelus decided that this was the
moment he would celebrate his triumph over her. He was careful to allow her to see his transformation;
more careful still to give her a head start before he threw her down and tore open her throat.
What Angelus had not realized was that he had been seen murdering the girl, whose name still eluded
him.
He had a rival, a brash Gypsy who had adored her, but considered himself unworthy of her. She was the
clan s favorite daughter, and he was only one of many cousins.
That didn t prevent him from loving her, and from wondering who it was who had claimed her heart.
Ashamed of himself, he had decided that very night to follow her.
And he had seen.
At the Gypsy camp the girl was lovingly laid out. Her burial gown was the best the clan possessed. The
keening of grief was a delightful ode to Angelus s savagery. On the path back to the Master s
underground lair, he stopped to listen. He had not expected them to find her so quickly. Now he was
torn between pretending to be drawn to the camp by the sound, to see what was amiss, or returning to
the Master s court to boast about his accomplishment.
* * *
Mulo, the Gypsy woman murmured. It was Gypsy for a dead person associated with uncleanness. It
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
meant vampire.
She wore a shawl and had painted the seal on her forehead. She waved her hand over the Orb of
Thesulah and began the incantation:
Nici mort nici al fiintei,
Te invoc, spirit al trecerii
Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal
Cu ajurtorul acestui magic glod de cristal.
Not dead, nor not of the living.
Spirits of the interregnum, I call.
Restore to the corporal vessel that which separates
us from beast.
Use this orb as your guide.
In the forest a horrible pain ripped through Angelus. He stumbled, looking over his shoulder, trying to
see what had attacked him. There was obviously nothing in front of him.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
Never had he felt such terrible agony. He was being ripped apart inside, by an unseen enemy. He ran
through the woods, heedless of his direction.
He fell again, and this time he lost awareness for a brief moment.
As he got to his knees, groggy and bewildered, an old Gypsy approached and hovered over him.
It hurts, yes? he said in English. Good. It will hurt more.
Angelus was dazed. Where am I?
The man was contemptuous, bitter, filled with rage. You don t remember. Everything you ve done, for
a hundred years, in a moment, you will. The face of everyone you killed our daughter s face they [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]