Page 43 of To Crave Darkly
I had the shit-eating grin plastered to my face all the way to de Santis’ chambers.
***
A sour-faced looking woman greeted us and made us wait while she went to inform de Santis of our arrival. I sat down in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs and instantly regretted it. They were painfully uncomfortable.
“Christ, does he like to torture you with his furniture as well as his presence?”
Jasper let out a bark of laughter and I swung my head up to face him. My jaw hit the floor at the sound. It was deep and rich and I wanted to hear it again. Surprise swam in his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe the sound had come from him but I wasn’t given the chance to reply. The sour faced woman was back and ushering us into de Santis’ office.
I crossed the threshold and stopped. The room really was like it was stuck in the past. It seemed better suited to a museum rather than a place for modern use. The walls were lined with rich wooden panelling and gilded furniture graced the floor. The wall at the far end was covered in leather tomes from floor to ceiling and a huge fireplace stood to my left. Dominating the room was a huge mahogany desk. My eyes were drawn to it immediately and behind it sat the vampire himself, Cesare de Santis, looking for all the world like a King upon his throne. I guessed that was the point to all this not-so-subtle opulence. He didn’t need an actual throne to assert his rule, he did that rather comfortably from behind that overly large desk. His cold calculating gaze raked over me from his languid position and I knew he was merely playing at being pliant. He was dangerous. But so was I, if I could ever figure out how.
“Thank you for joining me, Miss Monroe,” de Santis said as he gracefully stood behind his desk.
I bristled at his feigned hospitality. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
He smirked. “I suppose not. Please sit.” He indicated the chairs in front of his desk. I followed Jasper’s lead and sat down next to him. He shot me a warning glance before staring back at de Santis. I knew what he meant by that; he was silently willing me not to piss off the powerful vampire. I rolled my eyes at him. I wasn’t going to make any promises.
“It seems you are quite the find, Miss Monroe. A Sin Reaper no less.” De Santis sat back down in his large wing back chair crossing one elegant leg over the other.
“Apparently,” I replied with a shrug of my shoulder, figuring it was better to be a bit blasé about the whole thing than let him know how much the whole thing affected me. I didn’t want to give him anything he could use to his advantage.
“That is fascinating. I have never met one myself. The last I had heard of the existence of one must be at least three centuries ago. Even then, I am not sure if the stories were true. Fear of the unknown was certainly rife in those days.”
“I can imagine,” I responded. He seemed like the kind of guy that liked the sound of his voice and I wanted to keep him talking. Finding out at least some of his plans seemed like a good use of this conversation. I should probably start with something subtle.
“What do you want with me?”
Or not.
De Santis chuckled. “Straight to the point. I like it. Miss Monroe, I think you are the key to either saving or damning us all.”
“No pressure then.”
The smile de Santis gave me in response sent an unpleasant trickle of fear through me. “Why, none at all. Has anyone told you anything about the prophecy?”
“Not really, other than a witch prophesied that someone is supposed to rise with Lucifer and destroy the world. I was also asked if I was a Morta. My understanding of that is they are considered a bad omen, a bringer of dark days as it were.”
“Yes, the prophecy harks back to the early 16thcentury to a woman named Millicent Blackwood. She became a dark prophet when the Devil cursed her as punishment for her misdeeds. She wanted to break free of his influence and he cursed her to suffer it for the rest of her days.”
I settled back into the chair. At least it was comfier than the ones outside his office. “Seems a harsh punishment. I understand it drove her mad.”
“Oh yes, she was quite insane when she died. But she did leave behind a collection of prophecies. Some have come to pass; some we have unravelled from the chaos of her words and some we are yet to understand.” De Santis stood as he spoke and walked to the bookshelf behind him. He removed from the shelf a slim volume bound in dark red leather. This had to be a printed copy of the ravings of the witch. I was instantly curious to see the contents, to take a look inside the mind of a woman driven mad by the Devil. De Santis slid the small tome across the top of his desk to me and I noticed the cover was completely blank apart from a small upturned star in the middle. For something that contained so many dark and hideous things it was surprisingly plain and unassuming.
I flicked through the pages. It was an amalgamation of text, sketches, symbols and diagrams that made no sense to me. The printed pages meant it wasn’t the original, but I was intrigued by it all the same. I turned to the first page and found the title of the book written in striking black print.
The Prophetic Revelations of Damnation
By Mistress Millicent Blackwood
“This is a facsimile of the original.” De Santis’ voice pulled me from my examination of the book and I found him staring at me with a mixture of intrigue and what I would have to describe as dark obsession. In that moment, I knew he was more dangerous than I originally thought. Obsession was a dangerous thing, driving a person to think only of that one thing at the expense of everything and everyone around them. It drove you to ignore logic and reasoning and I suddenly wondered whether this prophecy might actually get me killed.
I turned to the page marked with the ribbon and found myself staring at the prophecy that was supposedly about me.
When the darkness grows and eclipses the sun,
When Man has failed and Sin has won,
Born of fire, a trio will rise
