Fratelli: The Awakening (The Vampire Cartel #1)

9. The House of Draca

Chapter 9

The House of Draca

G arden District - New Orleans, LA

April 13th, 2018

(9 Days before Death)

The inside of the House of Draca defied her expectations. While the opulence spoke of wealth and prestige, the dark decor and sparsely furnished rooms told a different story. As she moved through the front of the house, she encountered stairs of black marble, complemented by ebony railings and matching floors. Above, a high ceiling was painted black with the most intricate, red-coiled dragon she’d ever seen. Staring up at the dragon, she couldn’t shake the coldness she felt and had to force her eyes down. Shadows loomed from the dimly lit candelabrums. The place had an atmosphere of grandeur, but also of emptiness, solitude, and a pervasive sense of melancholy. It felt more like a preserved museum, a relic of a time past, much less modern than what she expected a record executive to have.

Following Tristan’s instructions, Dolly discovered the Scarlet Hall, and what greeted her took her breath away. Portraits adorned the walls on either side. Each depicted a woman of color. Twelve women in total were immortalized. Black women from bygone eras, with their beauty reflecting the styles of the 30s through to the 90s. She studied the details, the evolution of their hairstyles and fashion. There was a familiarity with these women, not in likeness.

She walked fast. The eyes of the women followed. A feeling of being mocked hastened her pace. With her heart in her throat, she escaped the hall of women and entered serenity.

The parlor revealed an open garden with a glass ceiling so clear at first, she thought it was just the sky, stars, and the moon above. The most beautiful flowers she’d ever seen in her life bloomed on vines and within tall, short, medium-sized pots. Though the mansion was dark and ominous, the garden was bright with promise and bathed in moonlight as bright as the sun.

“Ms. Young,” said Don Lucio.

She glanced in his direction. He wore a long white shirt and dark slacks. He looked shaven and relaxed. But the extravagance of his home said differently.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Uh, you have, um, nice… a nice house, I guess,” she half-smiled.

“It’s a bit much, huh?” Lucio asked.

“The dragon was. And those paintings of the black women. Are they real people? I mean? I have never seen such concentrated artwork.”

“Concentrated artwork? I like the way you put that,” Don Lucio said as he approached.

“I did two years as an art major before having to give up school,” she lied. She didn’t even think the word choice was the correct one to use. She just wanted to sound smart.

“Well, the House of Draca belonged to my father. And Draca is a family legacy that dates back to a long time ago. It’s part of a tradition called the Fratelli of the Dragon.”

“Wow? What does that mean?”

“It was a council that once belonged to the Senate of Rome during that era.”

Lucio stopped his approach, not too far from her. She could smell the richness of his cologne, but it wasn’t overpowering.”

“Those women are real, I assure you,” he said.

“Why are they hanging on the wall like that?”she asked.

“We have an agency that promotes talent, and those were our biggest stars over the years. Look them up. Without them, we would not be where we are today,” he said. “Di Salvo Entertainment, that is.”

“Oh? Okay,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. He seemed to notice. Each time she moved or swallowed; his dark gaze followed her actions before returning to her face. “Well, I’m glad to be here,” she said, and tossed her hair to appear confident. He blinked at her flirtation, and to cover the awkwardness, she made the first move and tried to hug him. He seemed surprised, but he returned the affection like a gentleman.

“You hungry?” he asked. He kept his hand on her waist when she drew back. She liked that.

“Yeah, famished. I ate with my brother, but that was three hours ago.”

“Good, I prepared dinner.”

“You cook too?” she asked as he walked her through the palatial garden to a gazebo, with a fine dining setting at its center.

“I love to cook,” he replied.

“Another wow,” she said, more to herself. She had to do all the cooking with her brother. And when her father was alive, she couldn’t recall him ever even boiling water. Every man she dated told her that her cooking wasn’t as good as their mama’s.

He pulled out a chair, and she accepted the seat. He then went to the sterling ice bucket and lifted a bottle of wine for her to see. She shrugged. She wasn’t a drinker and didn’t like wine, but she supposed she was expected to have some.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said as he poured the wine.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Why am I here?”she asked.

“Dinner, conversation, company, I don’t get to visit home often. I leave in the morning for Vegas. I’d like to have an evening with a beautiful woman. Is that wrong?”

She accepted the wine. “Beautiful woman, huh?”

“Yes, Dolly. You know you’re beautiful.”

“Well, I know I’m not ugly,” she replied.

He gave a short laugh. The laughter surprised her. It was then she glimpsed his diamond-tip canines and was reminded of the man he was. At first, the place, his manner and attire, had her slipping into a fantasy. This was no Cinderella story. She had come for business. Sonya often told her she romanticized men too much. She had to see men for who they were, not who she fantasized them to be.

“I like your dental work,” she commented.

To this, he didn’t respond. He held her stare.

Afraid to ask another question, she sipped the wine and then gagged.

“Taste?” Lucio inquired.

“It’s gross. Hate wine, especially red,” she said and set the glass down. “Sorry. I can’t even pretend to like that. It has a roach spray aftertaste.”

“You’ve tasted roach spray?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Funny. I don’t mean to insult you, but the wine is nasty.”

“No offense taken. I should have asked what you prefer.”

“Water is fine,” she informed him. “Pop, makes me burp.”

Before them was a silver dome dish. It covered their meal. She watched him place a napkin on his lap and when he lifted his lid; she did the same. Dolly uncovered her favorites. Crawfish étouffée poured over fluffy white rice with steamed vegetables and cornbread. It was her and Russell’s Sunday dish after church when their mom was alive. Immediately, thoughts of their mother surfaced, and her heart raced. She blinked away the threat of tears.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She still had the dome in her hand. Glancing at the meal briefly, she then looked up at him and then down at the food. She couldn’t make it, but she watched so many YouTube videos promising Russell she would learn. Instead, she would constantly UberEATS it to their townhome and they’d both reminisce over the mother who they missed and loved. How could he know her heart’s desire when it came to food?

“You made this for me?”

“My grandmother used to call it swamp brew,” Lucio said.

“I thought you were from Sicily?”she asked.

“I’m Sicilian. But I’m from here. I just told you about the house,” he said.

“Oh, right?”

“Is something wrong? Allergies?” Lucio persisted.

“Ah, no. I wasn’t expecting this. But we are in N’awlins, right?” She set the dome aside and sampled the dish. It tasted divine.

To Lucio, she was even more beautiful than the first time they met. Despite the humidity of the night leaving her hair fluffy and frizzy, it cascaded around her face in elegant curves. The dress, particularly its color, complimented her skin. His gaze oscillated between her breasts and her slender neck. He could not wait to be close to her. The privilege of the hug caught him by surprise. If she dared to touch him again, the night would take a turn. Once again, he attempted to slip into her thoughts, but he found the door to her inner mind shut tight. Was she aware of the mental blockade she used against him? Her open demeanor offered no clues. Yet, the barrier was unmistakable, a stark contrast to the chatty way she was with him.

“This is so good,” she gushed. “I mean really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Something wrong with your meal?” she inquired.

Lucio glanced at his food, reminiscing about the last time he enjoyed his own cooking—back when he was thirty, his father had prepared the last supper for him and his brothers. A rite of passage before they accepted the Draca. “No. I’ve been sampling throughout the dinner prep. My appetite seems to be gone.”

“So, I have another question. My last, and I’ll stop, promise.” She swallowed and drank her water first. Then continued: “Do I call you Don, or Lucio?”

He shook his head with a smile. From that point on, the dinner conversation flowed.

“Do you want a tour? Of the house?” Lucio asked once she was done with her meal.

“Yes, but first, you need to tell me why I’m really here. I mean, are you expecting sex? Because I... I’m not sure I can do that. You know, first date and all. Not that I haven’t thought about it. But, I... I have a habit of making all the wrong choices. And you and those diamond teeth feel like a wrong choice,” she said.

“Hmph, so maybe sex on the second date?” Lucio asked.

She laughed. It tickled her so much that she knocked the glass off the table. He was up and retrieving it. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m a klutz.”

“It’s okay,” Lucio said. He picked through the glass and put the shards on the table. She scooted the chair back and got down on her knees with him, trying to assist. Why was there so much broken glass?

“Ow!” she yelped, realizing she had pressed her knee down on a shard, cutting herself. When she stood, she backed away, favoring her leg. Lucio’s attention went to the bloody scratch on her knee before rising to meet her gaze. “Dang it, I make everything worse,” she lamented. “Look at my knee!”

“Stay calm,” he urged. Lucio licked his thumb; he then pressed it firmly against her wound. She observed briefly before ranting about how embarrassed she was. Lucio barely noticed. He just wanted to taste her. The bleeding had stopped after he removed his thumb. He put his thumb in his mouth and sucked it clean. When she noticed, he stopped. He stood and faced her.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“You just did? It’s just a scratch.” But before she could complete her refusal of the attention, she found herself lifted into his arms, swept up in a firm embrace. Never had a man carried her in such a chivalrous manner. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid of being tossed or dropped.

“I don’t want you to step on any more glass,” he reasoned.

“But I have on shoes,” she said. “Did you just lick my blood?”

He chuckled. “Does that bother you?”

“Yeah, it’s gross,” she said.“And unsanitary.”

“You taste divine,” he said and brushed his lips across her cheek.

“I can walk,” she reasoned and moved as if to signal for him to set her down. He did not.

“You can never be too careful,” he murmured, his lips then grazed hers. “This place can be dangerous.”

Dolly’s eyes fluttered shut, her tongue meeting his in a dance that was both shocking and savory, overwhelming her senses and mind. She was the one to pull away first, ending the greeting.

“For real. Who are you?” she asked, dazed and thrilled.

“Welcome to the House of Draca,” he smiled, and gave her another kiss as he carried her from the parlor.