Fratelli: The Awakening (The Vampire Cartel #1)

1. Don Vittorio Di Salvo

Chapter 1

Don Vittorio Di Salvo

M anchac Swamp

Louisiana 1921

(Day of Darkness defeats Light)

At just three years old, Lucio Di Salvo struggled more than his brothers with sleep. To him, the night was not for rest, but a time when the drumbeat of darkness stirred things unseen in the swamp. He sat up on his feather-stuffed mattress and escaped the confines of his room with his mind.

It was a simple game. He closed his eyes and sailed past the walls to the forest, exploring. This night, however, the exploration gave rise to fear, and he ended it quickly when something began to follow him. Lucio rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes with his tiny fists. His brothers lay on their cots made of rotted wood: Domenico’s thumb in his mouth, Marcello clutching a doll made by Manman Julia, and Sebastiano with his pet squirrel nestled on his chest, always within reach. Two sets of identicals, a modern-day medical miracle, had been born to Madame Marie Di Salvo. The four toddlers called the vibrant Manchac Swamp their home.

“Luciu? Luciu, si’ destu?” someone called the little tot’s name in Sicilian.

Lucio’s head whipped towards the window. He had heard the voice before, in the forest, when he played his mind games. It scared him. It was the voice that visited his mind after Manman Julia had retired for the evening, especially when the moon hung round and bright in the sky.

“Who there?” Lucio answered.

“Les gars, mes garcons, venez à Papa. Venez à moi ce soir.” The whispering voice that called itself ‘Papa’ now spoke in French instead of Sicilian. He said he wanted Lucio and his brothers to join him. The whisper pleaded with him to wake the others and share the news.

Confused by the familiarity of the dual-language whispers, Lucio hesitated to approach the window. Yet a strange urge compelled him forward. He crawled over his bedsheets, grasped the sill with his small hands, and hoisted himself up. Peering out, with only his forehead and eyes visible above the ledge, he surveyed the nocturnal swamp. To his surprise, no one was there.

When he turned, Lucio nearly jumped out of his skin. All three of his brothers were out of bed, standing in the center of the room, staring towards the window. Their faces were slack, ghostly white, eyes stretched wide with fear.

Lucio wavered on the cusp of tears, at first: his habitual response, when confused. He then considered running to the old woman they called Manman, who had mothered him after his own sweet mama had died. Now, he had to use as much comprehension as a three-year-old “swamp rat” might muster. After all, his knowledge of the night was limited to a longing to be part of it, listening to the howls of wild things in the darkness. Before he could utter a word of warning, Sebastiano, with his squirrel under his arm, approached their bedroom door.

Marcello assisted in turning the knob, and Lucio left the bed. It was a humid night in the swamp. Barefoot, in their dingy white pajama dresses, they followed the voice out of the cabin in single file. Halting two steps off the porch, the quartet of brothers stepped forward and faced the forest—unable to venture out further.

“ Not anuda step, ché! ” said an old familiar voice, as warm and protective as the milk from their mother's breasts. It rose from behind them.

The boys glanced back in unison, enchanted. They saw as one; they thought as one. They watched their frail Manman emerge from the door, relying on her cane for support. A dingy white crocheted shawl draped her shoulders, weathered by the harsh life she had lived in her one hundred and thirty-eight years.

The old woman had a severe curve in her spine. It forced her into a perpetual forward bend. Her wrinkled brown skin, covered with black moles, hung from the bones in her face and neck, giving a gaunt, haunted look to her sunken eyes. Her stark grey-white hair was a tangled mass pinned to the top of her head. But in her eyes was a vivacity that blazed in the night. She didn’t direct her glare at the children, for she loved them more than life itself. Her glare was for what lay beyond them, in the swamp.

“ Show yo’ self, demon ,” spoke the old woman. “ Dey ain’t cumin’. I got dis cabin heah potected. Dey ain’t movin’ no futha .”

Lucio turned his gaze back to the swamp trees, as did his brothers, in unison. Together, they sensed rather than heard the dark cackle of laughter.

“ I say sho’ yo’ self! O’ I turn dis swamp into a fiyah hotta dan de sun! An burn ya’ back ta hell were ya came from! ” Manman Julia commanded.

“If you could, you would,” came the reply. “We both know that this is my night.”

The darkness coalesced into a smoky cloud of movement, swirling into the form of a man—solid and tall. He wore a tailored blazer and trousers, with a long black cloak draping over his body. It exuded refinement and command. Lucio felt the power of his presence and ached to greet him. But Manman Julia had cast a protective force to guard them, so potent that not even Sebastiano’s squirrel could break free. The tiny animal remained frozen, in an almost death-like state, tucked in his arm.

“ Ciau, bedda matri, ” Don Vittorio Di Salvo greeted Manman in Sicilian with a respectful bow.

Everyone knew Manman was Creole and only spoke French, mixed with the English of the native and slave languages of the swamp. But when Lucio saw his Manman hiss in disgust, he wondered if she had understood the strangers greeting. “You conjure a storm to destroy these parishes, just to steal my boys away from me. Marie would have never wanted so much suffering and loss at their expense.”

“ De Missus wants were clear ta me. Her pain an sufferin’ bouht de storm, not my magic. I conjure what comes next. De barrier between darkness and light is from her spirit and mine. Dese boys ain’t vampire. No suh, dese boys are somethin’ greater than even you and Marie conceived thanks to the gift Papa Legba gave you both. ”

Don Vittorio laughed. “You and your hoodoo gods can’t change what I am, no matter what bargain Marie made. No matter what you think they are or who we are. You have no idea where I come from, or where these boys belong.”

“ Sho’ is right. I had no idea wen you come on de plantation from dat ship sixty-six years ago who and what you was. But I’s a quick learner. I kno’ yo’ evil, yo’ power, and I learn yo’ weakness. Weakness of all men. It is Her. It always de woman ya drain and cast dey empty shells in de swamp. So, I help de missus, cause I don’t care for the plight of dey white man. De Missus was diff’ent. I help her keep de babies in her womb when dey threatened to eat her guts from de inside. I heal dem babies from de blood thirst in de forest feedin dem from my own ragged dry breasts. I po’tect em, den and now.”

“Shut your lies, old woman. They are my sons! They are my boys! You can’t heal a vampire. They live to be me!” Don Vittorio raged.

“ Smell ‘em beast. Do dey smell like dey born of you? ” She cackled.

Don Vittorio paused. He inhaled and then roared in anger. The truth landed like a boulder on his head. She had revealed his prodigy to be foreign, strangers, pathetically normal. The vampire finally believed her truth.

“I helped de Missus, po’tect dem from you. Fo’ de service she made her own soul bargain and gave it to Papa Legba. It is de ultimate sacrifice. And you bein’ cast out of dey lives was enuf time.”

“ Drop the seal. Set them free. See who they want to be. A swamp rat with an old witch and her hoodoo God. Or a servant of the Draca, the one true God, like their father, where they rule the world?”

Manman took a deep breath. Lucio saw her handshake as it held tight to the top of the cane. She looked as if she struggled to speak. She closed her eyes and pointed her cane at him and his brothers. “ Take de boys. Break de seal. And pay a new price. One hun’red years from ta’dey, one hun’red years from ta’night. Dere would be one, only one, and he be de worst of you, he be de bringer of death. You take de boys, you make it so. I made sure you see de truth and you know!”

Don Vittorio swept the boys in his cloak and carried them up into the night like a rising cloud of black smoke. Sebastiano dropped his pet squirrel that squealed as it fell from the heights. Domencio let out a cry and yelled for his Manman to save him from the scary thing happening to them all. Lucio looked down at the swamp and the cabin he called home. Manman Julia had dropped her cane. She raised her arms to them as they were carried up to the moon. He thought his Manman cried. She did not. She celebrated. Her crippled body jumped and twisted ghastly as she danced. She laughed so hard and loud he could hear her laughter in the wind.