Thirteen Pieces of 8

By Hargrove Perth

Immorality always comes at a price.

 

When Florian believes the other 12 vampyres of his clan are behind the kidnapping of his beloved Sybilene, an oracle from Delphi, he will stop at nothing until they have all perished at his hand. But are they the ones responsilbe or it is something far more sinister at play? Once the call is sung to the Thirteen Pieces of 8, will any of them survive the final trial?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hargrove Perth
• Release date: Apr 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201777098

Hargrove Perth

A perpetual night-owl and lover of all things paranormal related, Hargrove spends a great deal of time researching the larger than life characters of history to formulate characters unforgettable and strangely adored. She writes horror, dark romance, fantasy, and paranormal in the Adult, New Adult, and YA categories. When asked why paranormal, she said, "I'm the girl who cries at the end when Frankenstein is misunderstood, who wants Dracula to keep Mina in his arms forever... I see the humanity in them that others cannot." 2014 Author of the Year by Double Decker Books in Historical/Horror Dark Days Remy Broulette. DDBA 2015 Author of the Year YA Fantasy Miss Crabtree's School for Unnaturals, DDBA 2015 Nominee YA Fantasy Chronicle:Dark Sea Triad, and DDBA 2015 Author of the Year Horror (comedic) Coven Wives.

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Dedication

In loving memory of Charlie Fungerolli...

With sincere thanks to Kelli Gresham and my husband whose support enables me to pursue my dream.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: The Rebirth of Florian Reinhardt

Chapter Two: Sybilene

Chapter Three: Unwilling Comrades

Chapter Four: Abduction

Chapter Five: Venice

Chapter Six: Exhibition of Blood

Chapter Seven: Possibilities

Chapter Eight: The Isle of Arran

Chapter Nine: Mountains of Yore

Chapter Ten: Storm Winds Blow

Chapter Eleven: Istanbul

Chapter Twelve: Sands of Time

Chapter Thirteen: The End of Innocence

Chapter Fourteen: The Sultan of Nassar

Chapter Fifteen: The Persian

Chapter Sixteen: Elizabeth

Chapter Seventeen: Ecsed

Chapter Eighteen: The Road to Vienna

Chapter Nineteen: The House of Lillian Escalva

Chapter Twenty: Grand Deception

Chapter Twenty-one: The Villa at Turan

Chapter Twenty-two: Destiny Revealed

Chapter Twenty-three: Coded Message

Chapter Twenty-four: The Thief

Chapter Twenty-five: Flight

Chapter Twenty-six: Revealing the Truth

Chapter Twenty-seven: An Inevitable Meeting

Chapter Twenty-eight: Death

Chapter One

The Rebirth of Florian Reinhardt

HE STOOD AT THE BOW of the ship, the spray of the sea upon his face. It would be his last day as a mortal; his last day before embracing his life as a vampyre. Xavier Dorian had long awaited the day his mortal life would end and his immortal life would begin. Dark clouds crested the sky; red, ominous clouds, the stern warning of any sailor, especially a wayward seafaring Captain.

Xavier did not fear what awaited him as the sun dropped below the horizon. He was only one of many who made their life in the sea. She silently bid him farewell as the sun dropped below her edge.

Hoist the sails! Xavier commanded as a favorable west wind began to blow. We make port next in Rio de la Hacha!

The sounds of his crew heralded their excitement. Xavier promised his crew a well-deserved leave to shore as soon as they had delivered the last of their cargo. King Richard I would be pleased at the speed of which the Cordelia Rosa had made her delivery.

Xavier placed his hand upon the head of the woman carved into the mast as he passed her. Soon they would arrive in the warm waters of the newly discovered set of islands. Once the spoils of war were delivered to the next ship, Xavier’s responsibility in the matter would be done. His kinship with the English was a strange one given he was a Frenchman. The only reason Xavier Entienne Dorian had kept his head was the fact he was a quick thinker and privy to information about both France and Spain that King Richard needed. He quickly became the King’s primary transporter of not only Royal goods, but also the spoils of war.

Xavier, you dream about times that soon will no longer matter, a voice said from the shadows. Lazzarus Cervantes stepped into the light of the oil lamp. His eyes glowed in the soft rays of the swaying lantern. Would you ask immortality to wait while you contemplate the fate of your life?

Of course not, sire, I was merely bidding her farewell.

Lazzarus laughed deeply. What would your King think about you consorting with a Spaniard?

I am a man of means, Lazzarus, and not ruled by any King. Wherever the profit lies so lies my loyalty.

Come, let us awaken what you were destined to be and the world will become your oyster.

Lazzarus wrapped his arm around Xavier’s shoulder as he ushered him into the Captain’s quarters. He eagerly anticipated what awaited him. Lazzarus closed the door to Xavier’s cabin while Xavier waited impatiently for him.

Tonight you become the undead, known by many names, feared by all, loved by few, respected by none. The power I am about to give you Xavier does not come without a price. One day I might require a favor in return, and I will accept no refusal.

Xavier nodded his head with a slight amount of in trepidation. His life was about to become markedly different. Lazzarus gazed out the thick, glass of the portside window. Darkness is about to become your friend, he said before he flew across the room, slamming into Xavier and pinning him to the wall. Xavier’s screams could be heard by his crew as Lazzarus sank his teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. The more Xavier struggled, the greater the pleasure Lazzarus derived. Blood soaked the white Captain’s shirt Xavier wore as Lazzarus drained the life from him. His eyes flashed from deep green to royal blue, then red as he consumed the last of Xavier’s blood, all but one drop.

Lazzarus released his hold on Xavier, dropping his lifeless body to the floor. He drew his sleeve across his lips, wiping Xavier’s blood from his mouth before sitting in the Captain’s chair. He would wait for nearly three hours till the strike of the witching hour before he would bring Xavier back from the brink of death. When the clock began to strike twelve, Lazzarus took his dagger and slit his wrist, offering his own life-giving blood to Xavier. The wound sealed itself as soon as Lazzarus pulled his wrist away.

Lazzarus sat on the floor next to his first creation, the one who would always hold favor in his eyes as he waited for Xavier to awake. He pondered whether he had taken too much blood, if he had drained too much of Xavier’s life from him. Just as Lazzarus was ready to relinquish himself to failure, Xavier gasped for air and sat forward. His eyes were the same shade of green as his creator, royal and deep like the Caribbean Sea.

Xavier scurried into the corner of his cabin, backing into the wall, and nearly knocked over the liquor cabinet in his attempt to escape Lazzarus.

Do not fear me, Xavier. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. What you feel will pass soon enough, Lazzarus lied in an attempt to ease Xavier’s fears. In truth, he had no idea how long his first creation would take to adapt. Lazzarus Cervantes was the first vampyre - born of a curse and damned to eternal darkness.

He rose and poured water into a basin so Xavier could wash the blood from his long golden hair. He carried the basin to Xavier and opened the closet to search for clean clothes as his first creation continued to shake in the corner of the room. He laid a shirt at Xavier’s feet before resuming his watch in the Captain’s chair.

You would not want the crew to be afraid of your appearance, Xavier. I will give you time to compose yourself before I teach you what you must know to survive.

Xavier removed his shirt, revealing the scars that crossed his back. Scars born of the whipping he had taken in England before King Richard had agreed to hear his words. Lazzarus frowned at the way his creation had been treated at the hand of another. He would see that the King would pay for his treatment of Xavier.

The crew grew leery as two days passed without sign of their Captain. Xavier Dorian was a staunch presence on the deck, never one to not be at the helm. His men sensed something had happened. For his first taste of being a vampyre, Lazzarus had arranged a special treat for his beloved creation, one which he had kept secured below deck in the bowels of the Cordelia Rosa.

Lazzarus stepped from the cabin into the light of the morning sun feeling somewhat glorious. He commanded one of the deckhands bring the stowaway to him. Lazzarus stood in the shadows as he awaited the prize he wished to deliver to Xavier. When the deckhand returned with her, she was all too willing to take the hand of the one who had made her complacent. Lazzarus escorted her into Xavier’s cabin and closed the door behind them.

Go to him, he whispered. The beautiful young lass was quick to obey and knelt before Xavier as he sat in the corner of the room. She reached to touch his face. Xavier pulled away from her until he smelled her blood rushing through her veins.

His senses overwhelmed him. Xavier had little control over what happened as he leaned closer to her. The subtle scent of her perfume sent waves of euphoria through his body. Lazzarus stood behind the girl watching Xavier closely.

Take what is rightfully yours, my son, without regret, without remorse.

Her heart raced as Xavier leaned closer to her, listening to the rushing of her blood. Inexperienced and afraid of what he was feeling, Xavier snapped her neck when he grabbed her. The haste in which he fed fueled his overwhelming thirst. She would not be enough to satisfy him. Lazzarus realized the danger the crew would be in if Xavier left the cabin and firmly grasped him by the wrist.

Look at me, Xavier, look into my eyes, Lazzarus whispered. His eyes were blood red as he looked up at Lazzarus not realizing that once his gaze was fixed there would be no resisting. Lazzarus lulled Xavier into a deep sleep.

Lazzarus carried Xavier to his bed, covering him with several blankets before sitting down at his side. Three days would pass before he would awake to the new life he had chosen.

How long have I been sleeping? Xavier asked as he pushed the covers aside.

Long enough to recover from your first breath, but not long enough to rejuvenate your body. That will require much more of the same.

Have we reached La Hacha?

No, soon we shall. You should speak to the crew. They have grown skittish in your absence. I will accompany you.

There is no need.

On the contrary, there is. You have not yet learned to control your desires Xavier. How will you bring a ship this size into port with no crew?

The sounds which surrounded Xavier, as he placed his hand on the door exiting his chamber, rang as loud as thunder in his ears. The sound of the deck being swabbed was like that of gale force winds. Mice running in the bowels of ship echoed like elephants tramping back and forth. His hand trembled uncontrollably while fumbling for the door handle.

Shield your eyes, Xavier; it will seem blinding the first time. I promise all of your days will not be as difficult as this one. Each day will become easier as time passes.

Xavier stepped onto the deck, shielding his eyes. His hair was disheveled, his beard unkept, and his clothing wrinkled. He was not the Captain his men were used to seeing.

Captain Dorian, you are alive. The men feared the fever had taken to you. Thanks to God you are alive, Barian said. As the First Mate of the ship, it had been his charge to carry on as the Captain during Xavier’s absence. We approach La Hacha. Only one more sunrise till we make port. Should I have the cook, fix your breakfast, sir?

Though the thought of food was more than repulsive, Xavier reluctantly agreed. All needed to appear as it once was. He could not afford to raise suspicions which would prove more difficult than he realized. With only four days until the ship would make berth in La Hacha, Lazzarus knew the entire crew was at risk. Xavier displayed fierce behavior during his first feed. Lazzarus was certain it would not be the last occasion he would witness such brutality.

Before the ship reached port, half of the crew was missing, the rest were haggard from lack of sleep, and a few of them were behaving strangely. Barian was one of the few who fell into the keep of being gaunt from lack of sleep. He feared his master had become the undead of legend and could not bring himself to sleep.

The small port at Rio de la Hacha proved to be a smorgasbord of delight for Xavier in his newfound condition. The women were easily overpowered, the men lacked foundation, and the children were simply delicious. Lazzarus watched his creation with a sense of superior accomplishment. Xavier was all he could have hoped for and more. He killed without shame and desired no penitence.

The years passed quickly as Lazzuras wiled away the hours without counting with his new creation at his side. King Richard I fell to the French with the aid of spies Lazzarus carefully placed within his midst. He had made a silent promise upon seeing the scars covering Xavier’s back that King Richard would pay, and he did. He paid with his life.

Many successors came and went yet Xavier remained. He simply feigned his death, taking on a slightly different glamor, and presented himself as his son; but he always retained the name of Xavier Entienne Dorian.  He had no need to cover his tracks, nor his identity, since Xavier outlived every King he served. During his first few hundred years as a vampyre, Xavier grew a large fortune, purchased a finely crafted Swedish ship, and continued his dealings as the executive transporter for the realm of England. He owned many ships over the centuries, but her name remained the same, always the Cordelia Rosa. During the Crusades, he ferried weapons and supplies to the Holy Land and briefly served as a Crusader. The land of the Christians and the Muslims intrigued Xavier. He decided he would fight no more but become a trader to further his empire, sharing his wealth with his father and creator, Lazzarus.

Xavier traveled to the famed city of Petra, a small city in the grand scheme of his making. He knew it would become a central part of the trade route and there he could make his fortune. Lazzarus was pleased with how Xavier had advanced and grown but was growing restless. Having created another being like him, Lazzarus desired to create others in his own image. During his frequent and long absences, Lazzarus had found two others who he had brought into his keep. It was a fact he had not shared with Xavier. It was also the reason why he disappeared for long periods of time. He knew that Xavier would in turn bring across another to keep in his company and did not worry that Xavier would grow lonely in his absence.

Lazzarus watched his beloved as he moved amongst the exotic women of Petra. His golden hair intrigued the women, leaving Xavier never wanting for a lack of female affection. His ease at which he controlled them was fluent and effortless. Lazzarus knew it would not be long before Xavier found the perfect human to become like him.

It is a sad day when the father must bid farewell to the son, Lazzarus whispered as he stepped out of the shadows of Xavier’s tent.

It is a sad day when I must bid farewell to my creator. Where shall you go?

Wherever my heart leads me - I have no definite plan or direction. I shall travel until I find another worthy of my attention - just as I did when I found you.

Xavier extended his hand to Lazzarus, who placed a piece of eight in his palm and closed Xavier’s hand tightly.

When the call is sung, you will know it I who calls you and the song you must obey. Every gift has its price.

With his words, Lazzarus Cervantes disappeared, leaving Xavier alone to ponder the meaning of what he had said. He placed the piece of eight in a small wooden box he carried with him from the ship, and there it stayed for nearly six hundred years.

Xavier continued the silk trade and began dealing with the Knights Templar as a trader and a single Knight on a consistent basis. He was quite charmed by the young Knight called Florian Reinhardt, whom he had met when delivering supplies to the Templar camp. The two of them developed a quick friendship that blossomed into a father- son relationship the same as Xavier had shared with Lazzarus. Florian visited Xavier’s shop frequently when he was not working as a scout for the Templars. It was his position to seek out the camps of the Turks to keep the Templars one step ahead of them. Florian purchased a large number of goods to ship home to his wife. When he did not return to retrieve the silk Xavier had ordered for him, Xavier grew concerned. He immediately traveled to the Templar Stronghold to find Florian.

The sun was perilous as it beat down upon Xavier as he rode through the stone caverns to the Templar House. He knew he had to keep to the shadows or his skin would blister beneath the sun. Xavier had adapted well to living during the day, though it was not the time of day he preferred. He rode his horse with no mercy until he reached the Templar House only to find Florian had been called to battle. Weakened and unable to travel any further, Xavier knew his only hope of finding Florian was to wait until nightfall.

Darkness descended, filling the desert with cold, crisp air and the eerie cry of the hyenas as they ran through the desert. Xavier stood with his eyes closed, blocking the sounds around him as he targeted Florian. Once he located him, Xavier Dorian disappeared faster than a sandstorm could rise. He appeared outside the tent in which Florian lay. Parting the flap ever so carefully, he peered inside at his dying friend.

Florian, did I not tell you to use caution among these hedonic beasts?

He smiled slightly and laughed as he looked at Xavier standing in the parted tent flap, unable to stop coughing up large amounts of blood. Xavier went to Florian, lifting the loose gauze that covered his wound.

It weeps, my lord, and does not heal. My time with you is ending. Send word to my wife in my last breath I spoke of her.

Xavier considered if he should embrace Florian, offering him the same gift he had once been given. Never in his long life had he met another so worthy of the gift of immortality as Florian Reinhardt.

Were I to offer you a gift, a great gift, beyond any ever offered to you, would you accept?

You offer me gifts as I lay dying. You are a strange man Xavier.

I offer you the gift of immortality. To never know loneliness or pain, to never suffer from hunger, to never face lament or sorrow for your actions, this I can give you Florian; but you must know what it is you must sacrifice. You will leave your humanity behind, becoming what is feared and hated yet desired. You will become as I have, you will become a vampyre.

Florian nearly laughed at the suggestion Xavier made until he realized his friend was serious. The man Florian knew as Xavier Entienne Dorian was a creature of the night - the fabled vampyre who walked in the darkness between life and death.

What must I do? Florian asked.

Close your eyes and do not open them again until I command you to do so.

Darkness descended on Florian, and when he awoke, Florian understood what it was Xavier had meant. Florian Reinhardt’s life was about to become markedly different in ways he could not fathom.

Chapter Two

Sybilene

HOW LONG HAVE THEY been on the move? Florian asked as he leaned over Sybilene. She tasted the dirt before she looked at him.

Two, maybe three hours at the most but they are not far ahead of us. Sybilene stood and dusted the dirt from her hands as Florian stared at her.

I will never get used to you doing that, Florian said as he pulled the map out of his pocket and held it up. Where? He asked.

Sybilene was skilled in her art and traveling with a one thousand year old witch did have its merits. Especially when it came to being a tracker, no one could pinpoint the whereabouts of those Florian sought with the skill she had. Florian and Sybilene had traveled together for so long it was hard for Florian to consider his life without her.

Sybilene closed her eyes as she held the pendulum before the map and whispered. The pendulum leaned toward the map pinpointing their exact location. Now the only task left was catching them.

Looks like we're heading to Moscow. Sybilene smiled. It had been many years since they had been so close to her home, many more years than Florian cared to remember.

Florian purchased two tickets for them to take the train from Paris to Moscow. They would travel first class as newlyweds until they reached Russia. They would need to purchase a few items before boarding, and Florian knew Sybilene would want to restock her supplies.

Meet me at the train station in three hours, Florian whispered.

Florian left Sybilene alone as he headed toward the shops of downtown Paris.

Florian spent the majority of the time Sybilene and he were separated purchasing clothing for her to wear once they reached Russia. Though Florian could withstand the cold weather, he knew Sybilene could not. She was, after all, human.

Florian arrived at the train station thirty minutes ahead of schedule and sat on the bench at the end of the platform as he awaited Sybilene’s arrival. The people on the platform smiled as they passed Florian and the myriad of shopping bags that surrounded him as he awaited her. At last, Florian saw Sybilene step onto the far end of the platform. Each time Florian saw Sybilene, he was always relieved to see she was safe.

She helped Florian to carry the bags onto the train where they were escorted to a private car. Florian preferred to travel first class when the opportunity presented itself.

Nice, Sybilene said as she jumped onto the king size bed. So who gets it?

You do, I will sleep on the divan.

Sybilene laughed and shook her head. She knew Florian would not sleep. He rarely did.

She stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed without even looking in the bags to see what Florian had purchased for her. It was so typical of Sybilene. She had such a single focus most of the time. It had been a long time since Florian had seen her so tired. It had been a month of non-stop tracking, killing, and hunting.

Florian reclined on the sofa and pulled out the amulet Sybilene had made for him all those years ago. As Florian watched Paris fade into the distance, he thought about the day he found her and the gift that only she could give him.

It was the early years of the Crusades and the use of Inquisitors was just coming into fashion. After Florian returned home to the Hercynian Forest after being in the Holy Land for sixty years, he found life for his people to be quite different than he remembered. The world he had known had grown unruly.

King Uric of Schwarzwald sent several of the returning Templars on patrols in the densely forested region to the North along the border of what would become Russia. Florian had been a vampyre for nearly fifty years at that time. He used the guise of being a Knight in the Crusades to hunt down other vampyres and kill them, but it was difficult for him. Not the killing of his own kind, but controlling the constant hunger which lingered within and learning how to live in a world filled with an unlimited food source. The first few years were the most difficult, learning how to live in the daylight, which was incredibly painful at first for Florian, and learning how to feed without turning his victims were the most difficult obstacles to overcome.

Florian watched the tree line of the forests come into view out the window of the train and smiled slightly as he thought about his first encounter with Sybilene.

Five Knights accompanied Florian as they were sent to scout the countryside when they came upon Sybilene, barely clothed, beaten, and bound with rope to a pyre awaiting her imminent death. As Florian stood before