Page 1 of Venice Vampyr: The Beginning

Chapter One

Venice, Italy - early 1800s

Raphael di Santori never thought he’d lose his life by drowning. A stake through the heart, maybe, or burnt to ash by the sun – but never drowning. Not that it wasn’t something many vampires feared: their cells, after all, were so dense and solid that as a result their bodies were much heavier than water and therefore sank instantly.

That was exactly what had happened to him. One minute he’d been wandering along the canal. Now he was enfolded in its icy cold depths. He could paddle and splash all he wanted, but his weight pulled him under the water without regard for his efforts. All his strength worked against him.

There was nothing to hold onto. The canal was lined with Venetian homes without ledges or docks, without the entry doors on the water level—mainly used for deliveries—that were customary at the larger merchants’ homes. The homes that bordered this narrow, insignificant, yet deep canal in the labyrinth of Venice didn’t have this luxury. Their inhabitants entered from the streets above, streets he’d walked earlier.

The noise of the carnival’s revelers drifted to him, numbed by the water in his ears. Even if he screamed, they wouldn’t hear him. They were too drunk to take any notice. It was one of the reasons he’d been prowling the streets despite the large number of people out. In a drunken crowd, there were more than a few morsels that would turn into prey, more than a few juicy necks he could feast on without being discovered.

All year he’d been careful, never feeding when the streets were busy, always making sure his victims wouldn’t remember what had happened. Only during carnival, when masks were the ultimate accessory to any garment, did he gorge himself on the plentiful buffet of humans.

Had he been careless this time? Had somebody seen him? Why else had he felt a hand on his back, pushing him into the canal? Merely an accident by a drunken passerby or a deliberate act by someone who knew what he was? Had the Guardians of the Holy Waters finally caught up with him?

The Guardians—he and his brethren feared them. Nobody knew how the secret society of merchants and nobles had come into existence. However, for the last one hundred years of his life, he’d seen more and more of his fellow vampires fall prey to them. Many of his friends had vanished one night, never to be heard of again. They’d either died at the end of a stake through their hearts or drowned just like he was about to drown.

Had the hand that he’d briefly felt on his back belonged to one of the elusive Guardians? Elusive, because despite all investigations he and his kind had engaged in, all they’d ever been able to discover was their symbol: a cross intersected by three waves. His brethren had only ever captured one single member of the Holy Waters, but he’d not disclosed much more than their name and the symbol which he wore on a black onyx ring before he’d escaped them by killing himself and taken his secrets to the grave.

Were the Guardians behind his ordeal? Had one of them pushed him, knowing he’d drown? And what did it matter now? In a few minutes, he would be dead, his immortal life over. He would rot on the bottom of the canal, his body never rising to the surface even as it decomposed, the denseness of his cells and bones making sure nothing of his being would ever come to light.

Raphael reflected on his long life, a life longer than any human could have wished for. He was leaving his brother Dante behind. But there was no woman who loved him and would cry a tear for him. His life was empty. With a last breath, he gave up his struggle and allowed the water to take him.

***

Isabella Tenderini heard the sloshing of water in the otherwise quiet canal and asked her trusted gondolier to go faster. The Canale Grande was busy due to the festivities surrounding the carnival, and she’d instructed Adolfo to take her home via the quiet backwaters.

“Yes, Signora,” he now answered and propelled the gondola forward effortlessly.

Her eyes peered into the darkness, the occasional light from the houses lining the canal throwing eerie shadows along the narrow passage. “Do you see anything?”

“There seems to be a disturbance in the water, just ahead of us,” Adolfo answered.

“Quickly, pull alongside.” Her heart beat faster at the thoughts that entered her mind. “Tell me what you see.”

“Somebody appears to be in the water, Signora.”

The tight fist of fear gripped her, and before she knew it, she divested herself of the cloak that kept the chill of the night air from her body and dropped it onto the seat next to her. “A child?”

“No, larger. A man.”

A sense of déjà vu struck her, her heart reminding her of her own loss. Without hesitation, she undid the laces of her bodice, then felt Adolfo’s hand on her shoulder.

“No, Signora, he’ll be too heavy for you. You can’t rescue a man. A child, yes, but not a grown man.”

Isabella turned to him. She wouldn’t be deterred by his concern. He had to understand that she had to do this so no other woman would feel the pain she had to endure. So no other woman would become a widow like she had. “I can’t let anybody drown, you know that.”

He nodded and, despite the darkness, she knew his expression would be sad. But he wouldn’t stop her. Her own husband, a wealthy merchant, had drowned in one of the canals less than a year ago. The money he’d left her did nothing to appease her loneliness.

As she stripped off her richly embroidered gown and dropped the petticoats to the bottom of the gondola, the cold February air blew through her chemise. But all she could think of was the man whose hands were the only things now visible above the water as if he was trying to hold onto some invisible rope. If she could save him, maybe she would finally be at peace and accept what had happened. Accept Giovanni’s death.

“Hold on,” Isabella begged, “just hold on a few more seconds.” She prayed she wouldn’t be too late.

“I will help you,” Adolfo’s voice came from behind.

She shook her head. Just because she needed to do this foolish thing didn’t mean she would endanger her loyal servant. “No. You can’t swim.”

As he pulled the boat alongside the drowning man, Adolfo released his oar and stepped behind her. A moment later, she felt his hands on her.