Forbidden

Gabriel is beginning to get a distinct feeling about this house. Everywhere they look, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains block out the sun. The only sunlight they have seen since entering comes from glass windows lining the vaulted ceilings above. The cheery glow does little to ease the somber mood of Sorin’s study.

  “How much do you know about your girlfriend?” Sorin asks, snickering on the last word as he sinks into a black leather armchair. A roaring fire casts an eerie halo around his head.

  Towering bookcases, filled with ancient leather bound books, run the perimeter of the room. Medieval-style swords hang from the walls. One, in particular, is encased in glass. Light from above highlights a dried bloodstain on the tip of the sword.

  Gabriel struggles to pull his attention away as Sorin clears his throat impatiently. “I’m sorry. I was just admiring your décor.” He returns to the conversation at hand. “The only thing I know about Rose, apart from what Nicolae has briefly told me, is from the times that I’ve spent with her at school.”

  Sorin sits forward, his gaze is intense, face rigid. “And did you spend any time alone with her?”

  Gabriel frowns. “Obviously.”

  “And yet you’re still alive,” Sorin mutters, stroking his goatee. “Interesting.”

  “Not really,” he counters. “Not if she isn’t what you accuse her to be.”

  Sorin’s booming laughter echoes into the recesses of the room. “You’re feisty, I’ll give you that.” He smiles. It is not a nice smile. It is dark and sinister and makes Gabriel’s skin crawl. “But you’re the biggest idiot that I’ve ever met.”

  Gabriel’s jaw clamps down hard. His fingers wrap painfully around his kneecaps as he bites his tongue against the abuse he wants to sling back. However, he is painfully aware of all of the weaponry scattered around the room and knows he would be useless against this war-hardened man. Strength or not, Sorin Funar is obviously a skilled killer.

  “Now that I’ve got your attention,” Sorin’s voice rumbles as he rises to his feet, “I’d like to show you a bit of our history to convince the halfwit about his precious Roseline.”

  Sadie sits forward, aching to hear more, even if it does come from a creepy, old man. William looks sick as he slinks further down into his chair while Nicolae remains rigid by the door.

  “Have you ever heard of The Black Church?” he asks, pointing to a picture hanging over the fireplace. The stone building looks tarnished by some sort of soot or dirt.

  Sadie rolls her eyes. “They don’t exactly teach Romanian history in our country.”

  William hisses at her to be quiet but Sorin simply smiles. “Well, my dear, your friend Roseline was born in that church.”

  Sadie glances at the picture again, confused. “In a church?”

  Sorin returns to his seat. His fingers form a steeple before his eyes. “Not as a baby. As a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  “You mean that’s where she was raised from the dead?” Gabriel snorts. Sorin’s indifferent shrug angers him. Why is he so focused on Roseline? It’s not like he can prove she is the one that murdered Nicolae’s parents.

  “The girl you know as Rose was born Roseline Dragomir, an English name given after her mother’s side of the family, I believe. Her father was a man whose lust for wealth and prestige drove his lovely daughter into the arms of Vladimir Enescue. Poor Roseline knew the man was vile, but she had no idea he was a vampire.” Sorin’s eyes gleam with a fervor that makes Gabriel’s skin prickle with alarm. This man is obsessed.

  “So, then what happened?” Sadie asks, drawn into the story.

  “Vladimir killed all of the wedding guests.” His voice is monotone, uninterested with the gruesome details. He probably is. A tale like this has become a legend in Romania, passed down from parent to child as a warning against speaking to strangers or breaking nighttime curfews.

  Sadie scrunches up her nose. “How awful!”

  Sorin’s grin shifts into a leer. “You haven’t heard the best part.” He motions to another picture, this one of a young girl with snowy skin and pale pink lips. Her blonde hair is a startling contrast with her sparkling, baby blue eyes. “This is a likeness of Roseline’s younger sister, Adela Dragomir. She was the last to die.”

  Gabriel stares at the portrait, drawn in by the doe eyes that hold him captive. Although her coloring greatly differs from Roseline, she has the same warmth radiating out of her. There is no doubting her connection to the girl he loves.

  “I’m sure you’re telling us this for a reason.” Gabriel’s heart thunders in his chest. “Just get on with it.”

  Sorin nods, returning his gaze to the three friends seated precariously on his leather couch. “Adela’s blood was the tool used to damn her sister.” Gabriel snorts with disgust. Sorin’s bushy eyebrow rose. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Why should I? You have no proof. And apart from a picture hanging in some art gallery, Nicolae doesn’t have any real proof either. How do you even know she is the same girl? Rose could be a descendant,” Gabriel roars, his chest heaving with exertion. He is getting annoyed. All he wants to do is speak to Rose. She will clear this up.

  Nicolae flinches, unsure of how his uncle will react to Gabriel’s blatant disregard. His rigid stance nearly falters completely when Sorin settles back into his chair instead of smacking the smirk from Gabriel’s face.

  “Did you happen to notice the soot on the church?” Gabriel’s eyes flicker to the picture over Sorin’s head. “This church dates all the way back to 1477, but its name, The Black Church, wasn’t chosen until after a fire in 1689 that left the church blackened from smoke.”

  “Great history lesson,” Sadie grumbles. “But what’s this got to do with our friend?”

  “The fire occurred on the night of dear Roseline’s wedding…and her rebirth.” Sorin fixes his eyes on Gabriel, weighing out his reaction. “And that, my stupid boy, is recorded in our history books.”

  “Wait a second,” William gasps, speaking for the first time since he entered the gloomy room. “You’re saying Rose is…three hundred and twenty-two years old?”

  Sorin nods. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  He rises and moves toward the far wall. Placing his hand on one of the dark wooden panels, a hidden chamber appears. He motions for them to follow him. “Come…if you seek further proof.”

  Gabriel hangs back with William and Sadie as Nicolae follows directly behind Sorin. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he mutters under his breath. Nicolae darts a glance over his shoulder but says nothing. Gabriel would bet his brand-new Range Rover on the fact that Nicolae is hiding his own concern.

  “Stick close to me,” he whispers as he ducks inside the hidden passage.

  Sadie wedges herself between Gabriel and William as they descend a drafty spiral staircase. They walk on and on, burrowing deeper into the heart of Sorin’s lair. Flickering torchlight struggles to illuminate the narrow space.

  “How much further?” Gabriel calls ahead to Nicolae, but there is no response. This worries him even more. Surely, they are miles underground by now. If things go bad for them their screams will never be heard.

  “Ah. Here we are,” Sorin’s voice wafts up past Nicolae. By the stiffness of Nicolae’s shoulders, Gabriel prepares for the worst.

  When his foot finally reaches solid ground, Gabriel is not the least bit surprised to find himself standing in a medieval torture chamber. Rusted chains hang from the walls and some of the manacles still show signs of dried blood from their prisoners. The scent of aged urine and feces lingers on the air, soaked into the grout lines of the uneven stone lining the floor. Gabriel frowns at the scratches in the walls—claw marks.

  The skeletal remains of those who resided here are strewn about the floor. Most have been pushed against the outer walls. The ceiling is vast, towering nearly thirty feet overhead. The walls curve, no doubt to refl
ect the screams of the victims around the room. Gabriel shudders.

  “What’s that?” Sadie gasps, clinging to Gabriel’s arm.

  “That, my dear, is called a Strappado.” A wide grin stretches across Sorin’s face. Nicolae shudders and averts his gaze. “This device is used much like a rack. A person’s hands are tied behind their back and raised by this pulley system. Their feet are attached to this weight.”

  “How dreadful,” Sadie pales.

  “On the contrary.” Sorin shakes his head. “It is quite useful.”

  “To interrogate?” William gulps.

  Sorin’s smile makes Gabriel’s blood congeal. “Oh, no, this is just for fun.”

  Sadie’s gasp wrenches at Gabriel’s heart. He reaches back to clench her hand in his. “Why have you brought us here?”

  Sorin’s black cloak billows as he whirls around. “Why, to give you the proof you need, of course. Put the other two in the cell,” Sorin orders Nicolae as he stares Gabriel down. His lip curls with anger at his nephew’s hesitation. “Now!”

  “I don’t think so.” Gabriel pushes Sadie back and charges at Sorin.

  Despite appearing to be well into his fifties, Sorin moves as gracefully as a cat, easily sidestepping Gabriel’s charge. With the flick of his wrist, a small dagger appears and slices cleanly through Gabriel’s upper arm.

  He gasps and clenches his hand over the stinging wound. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, boy.” Sorin flips the dagger into his right hand. His knees bend as he crouches to attack.

  “Somehow, I think that is exactly how you like it.” Gabriel charges again. His shoulders hunch over like he’s going in for a football tackle but his newfound strength only throws him off balance. He sees the glint of metal a second before pain slashes through his chest.

  Sorin laughs as Gabriel tumbles to the stone floor. It feels cold against his feverish skin. His chest heaves, sucking in the damp air. “Dumb and slow. What did Roseline ever see you in?”

  Gabriel’s hand trembles as he holds his palm to his wound. Blood seeps between his fingers. His head is woozy but is alert enough to know the wound isn’t deep. Judging by the maniacal grin on Sorin’s face, he won’t be so lucky the next time.

  Gabriel struggles to rise to his feet but his legs give out on him. Sorin twists the knife in his hand as he stalks closer

  “Stop!” Sadie screams as she thrusts her hand into the air in surrender. “We’ll go.”

  “Good girl,” Sorin grins. “It looks like your friend is smart enough to know it will be safer locked behind bars than it will be for you, foolish boy.”

  Nicolae remains rooted in place. He watches as Sadie pulls her brother into the cell. “What will happen to them?”

  Sorin charges across the room to grab Nicolae by the throat. He doesn’t struggle. He knows better than that. “I will excuse your insolence because of the girl, but do not make the same mistake twice. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Uncle,” he wheezes. He drops to his knees as his uncle turns away. Finger marks appear on his neck as he rises and walks to the cage. “I’m sorry,” he whispers through the aged iron bars.

  Gabriel notices the sag of Nicolae’s shoulders. His desperation makes Gabriel wonder if his friends will be safer locked away. Are those rusted bars really strong enough to keep a vampire out or have they just been placed in a feeding trough?

  “What do you want with me?” Gabriel asks, turning toward Sorin as the lock falls into place.

  “You are simply a means to an end. You want proof that Roseline is a vampire and I want her dead. It’s a win-win situation.”

  The dagger pierces his skin before he even realizes Sorin moved. A deep gash runs the length of his arm. Warm blood soaks into the tattered remains of his sleeve, dripping from his fingers onto the floor.

  Sadie screams as Sorin appears behind him. The knife tip digs dangerously close to the artery in his neck. “Tie him up.”

  Nicolae shifts to obey. Sorin releases him as Nicolae drags Gabriel up onto a platform in the middle of the room. A wooden table lies horizontally across the raised area. Well-worn straps hang lifelessly over the edge, dried bloodstains clinging to the leather. Gabriel’s eyes widen with fear as he struggles against Nicolae but his strength is waning.

  “How can you do this to us?” He spits in Nicolae’s face. “Traitor!”

  “Now, now, Gabriel. According to you there’s nothing to fear…unless I’m right,” Sorin grins wickedly before turning to head back up the stairs. “Make sure you leave his scent trail for her to find. I don’t want to take any chances tonight.” The small dagger spirals through the air. Nicolae’s hand catches the bloody weapon with ease.

  Gabriel howls as Sorin disappears into the darkness. He bucks against the straps Nicolae has fastened across his chest. “I’m really sorry about this,” Nicolae whispers, lowering the blade to his flesh. “Trust me, this will hurt a lot less if I do it.”

  Sadie burrows her head into William’s chest as Gabriel’s screams echo in her ears. The frenzy fades over several moments; his cries deepen to a guttural moan as his body begins to twitch on the platform. When silence finally reigns, Nicolae stumbles backward. The dagger clatters from his bloodstained hands.

  Nicolae buries his head in his hands. “Oh, god. What have I done?”

 

  Forty-Two