Title: Madrid, 1853
Rating: R, for violence, rape in a nunnery, language
Summary: Inspired by Luke's line in The Harvest, when the Master asks him when the last time he was bested in a fight was, Luke replies, "Madrid, 1853."
Distribution: This story is in the process of being re-written. Once it is complete (feb. 2004) it will be available for distribution.
Pairings: Angelus/Darla, Angelus/Other
The large wooden door slowly opened, creaking on its large iron hinges, to reveal a young couple shivering in the cold rain. Sister Maria grabbed her cloak tighter around her as a cold mist blew inside dampening her dark habit, and wetting her plump cheeks.
“We're in need of shelter, the rain shows no sign of stopping and we're still half a day's ride from Madrid.” The woman had stated with a smile. Under her soaking red cloak, she was dressed in fine clothing, a long full skirt covering layers of petticoats and thin leggings. Her large hat was covered in flowers, which had wilted in the harsh rain bleeding colorful dye over the brim.
“We have little room,” the nun answered in broken English, “but the Sisters of Bernardas welcome all travelers. Please come in and sit by the hearth. I will try to find you something to eat.”
“Oh, I don't think that'll be terribly hard.” replied a thick Irish accent. The tall man crossed the threshold of the large stone building, taking the sister in his strong arms, savagely pushing her head to one side as he leaned in and tore out her throat. Angelus took a deep drought of Sister Maria, rolling her warm blood on his cool tongue. He turned to Darla, his Sire and mate. “Care for a drink, lover?”
“Don't mind if I do.” She answered, pulling the nun's limp body close to her own. When she had drained the woman, she let her drop to the floor with a heavy thud. “Thank god we've left Ireland. I think if I had to feed on one more starved farmer I'd have gone completely mad.”
“Aye, me too, nothing like a blight to thin the herd.” Angelus sneered. “How many years does it take to put meat back on yer bones after a famine. But then, not all Irishmen are as smart as yours truly, I got off that godforsaken island just in time.”
“Angelus, that was a century ago, remember.” Darla had moved closer to her Childe, cooing into his ear, pushing his long brown hair behind his shoulder as she nuzzled into his neck.
“Of course, I remember, we've come to glorious Spain to celebrate a hundred years of life. True life, that is, life with you, my delicious Sire.” Angelus gripped Darla closer to him, taking her sweet lips into his mouth. Suddenly, he broke away, taking his deep chocolate eyes from hers, staring further into the dark stone hallway. From deep within the convent there was a melodious chanting wafting through the air. “You nearly distracted me from my dessert, lover.”
“Dessert, we've only just had the appetizer.”
“Darling, everything you taste in this hallowed building will taste like the sweetest cream cake your mortal mouth ever dreamed of. Convents are wonderful, so full of piousness and innocence. Care to help me dirty a few souls?”
Darla followed Angelus deeper into the nunnery. They came across a few of the sisters in the next hallway. Darla led a dark haired sister into a private chamber. She let her demonic visage take over while sinking into a slow dance with her prey, gently nipping her throat as the woman began to pray. “Yes dear, pray to your god, let's see if he answers you, shall we?” Darla whispered into her neck as she lapped at the blood.
Angelus had come across a pair of women knelt in supplication at a small altar in another room. “Excuse me sisters, Sister Maria said I might beg a little help with my prayers from one of you. Ye see it's been a long time since I knelt before God and I feel I may be a little out of practice.” Angelus’ words were met with blank stares from the sisters. “I'm sorry, ye don't speak a word of English do you, my mistake. Ruegue a hermanas, yo le demostrará su dios.” Angelus whispered, promising to show the sisters their god.
“Dios querido, excepto nosotros de este demonio!” both sisters cried.
“No, sorry dears, your god won't be saving you from me, but you are right about one thing, I am a demon.” With that Angelus slipped into his demon face, feeling his brow thicken and his teeth sharpen to jagged edges. Angelus stared at the two sisters with his now golden eyes. He laughed as he heard screams coming from deep within the building. “It appears my Sire has lost her patience with her little meal.” Angelus taunted.
He reached the younger of the pair first, taking hold of her thin arm pressing it hard behind her back, licking up the side of her face, he whispered in her ear, “You smell lovely, is that holy oil?” He threw her hard against the wall next to the altar, her body dropped onto a small stone bench near the elder nun. Angelus took the other shivering woman by the thick pleats of her habit, pulling down the stiff collar. He bit deeply into her neck, cradling her as he slid to the ground himself. Feasting on the plump sister, he looked over to the young woman on the bench, her eyes were wide open watching him suck deeply on the open veins of her sister, until Angelus had completely drained her and tossed her aside.
Angelus crawled slowly over to the young nun, slowly reaching one hand up to slide her veil off her head. He revealed long, lush brown hair. Angelus ran his fingers through her thick locks while his other hand slid beneath her habit, finding her small unbound breasts. He roughly pinched at her stiff nipples.
“No demonio, no demonio!” she cried.
“You're right, a sweet lass like yourself shouldn't be taken by a demon, you need a man don't you.” Angelus let his human face come back to the surface. He licked his now blunt teeth to emphasize his angelic features. He grabbed one of her hands harshly and rubbed the back of it against his hairless cheek, taking two of her fingers into his mouth. He felt her shudder beneath him. He then pulled her onto the floor with him, sliding her cotton shift up her body. The woman alternated between prayer and outright crying as Angelus undid his sleek trousers, kicking of his polished boots. He spread her legs apart tearing off her undergarments as he freed himself from his own linen restraints.
“Shh now, we wouldn't want the others to know what's to come, would we?” He pressed harder against her trembling body, leaning in as if to kiss her gently, he lightly brushed her lips, then slid quickly to her neck, pressing his full lips against her jugular. He let his lips linger on her thick vein, feeling her quickened pulse against his tongue. He brushed his teeth to her neck and entered her virginal body with a hard thrust. Her screams only made Angelus press harder, feeling the thick membranes give way and coat her tight passage with a slick layer of blood. Angelus reached an arm under her back, pulling her further into his already deep thrust. The young sister wept uncontrollably beneath him, her chest rising and falling each time she cried out.
After a few moments Angelus grabbed her hips and in one movement rolled onto his back, placing the woman on top of him. He pulled roughly at her hips while thrusting upward, impaling her on his long shaft. He repeated the motion several times before reaching down with one hand to coat his index finger with her blood. He then raised it seductively to his mouth, sucking on the blood soaked finger, while grinning at the young nun. He then thrust again, forcing a moan from her mouth. The sound only further aroused Angelus, who nearing his climax, rolled her back onto the floor, once again taking up a harsh rhythm, sliding into her burning passage he felt the end of his member slam into her now bruised cervix with each thrust. As he felt the shuddering of his orgasm spray inside her, he looked down through heavy eyelids to see that she had completely passed out from the pain.
Angelus exited the lifeless body just as Darla walked into the small chamber. She was covered from chin to hip in crimson. Her ample breast, slickened with blood, was nearly coming out of her tight bodice. She licked at her full crimson lips she glanced at the still form of the woman on the floor. “My goodness, have we had fun, Angelus?” Angelus moaned in answer. Darla quickly joined him on the floor and began licking the blood from his still pulsating member. When she had sufficiently cleaned her Childe, she grabbed the girl's neck and tilted it to the side.
“You haven't even fed from her yet?”
“Had to work up an appetite.” Angelus felt his features quickly change to the vampire's. He pressed his sharp teeth into the nun's breast, taking the slow trickle of blood and letting it pool in his mouth before swallowing. The woman's dark eyes popped open at the fresh onslaught of pain, just in time to see Darla tear into her other breast. Her head tilted back against the hard stone as the pair of vampires suckled the last of her life's blood from her breasts.
Shortly after sunset, Darla and Angelus mounted fresh horses from the convent's stable and set off for Madrid. It was only a few hours before sunset when they passed under the Puerta de Alcalá. The mid-October night was just warm enough, now that the rains had slowed, for Angelus to remove his heavy overcoat, revealing his tailcoat and bloodstained cravat.
The couple found a tailor working late into the night and persuaded him to outfit them with more suitable dress. He had stared at their blood stained clothes with his mouth open while Angelus and Darla made up a story about a horse with a gashed leg. He seemed to believe them, or was just smart enough to pretend to believe it. They left the tailor with full cases of new outfits, and rather full bellies.
They managed to find a suite of rooms near the newly built Teatro Real. The reason Angelus had chosen Madrid to spend his 100th birthday. Verdi’s new opera Rigoletto was sweeping through Europe to rave reviews and he could think of no place better to see it than a clean new stage. The private boxes would be sure to give them all the privacy they required during the performance, allowing Darla to do a bit of her own performance.
Angelus helped Darla down off her horse in front of the Hotel Plaza Mayor. It's deep red walls just starting to glisten in the coming dawn. He passed the horses to the young man who came out to greet them, tossing a couple of gold coins he had taken from the tailor at the boy. As he led Darla up the marble steps into the spacious lobby Angelus thought he glimpsed a face from the past heading up the stairs. They were met by the concierge as soon as they were inside the building, and Angelus forgot all about the familiar guise.
“We'd like your finest rooms, good sir.” Angelus told him.
“Of course, Senór. Of course. How long will you and Senóra be staying with us?” The small man asked.
“As long as we're welcome.” Darla answered, flashing a toothy smile. The Concierge motioned for another boy to take their cases and lead them up the grand staircase to the largest rooms on the top floor. Darla asked him to shut the thick burgundy curtains tight, explaining that they had been riding all night and needed rest. The boy did as he was asked and left the room.
“Well, then,” Angelus turned to his Sire, “Shall we rest ourselves, tomorrow will be such a filling night, and we wouldn't want to spend all of our energy, would we?”
Darla quickly pulled him into a deep kiss. “I think you've energy to spare, Angelus.”
They moved to the bed, tossing the thick coverlet and linens to the floor. Darla shoved Angelus onto his back and began to tear at his clothing. “Careful lover, I've just eaten a tailor, it may cause a stir if they all go missing before we leave Spain.” Angelus purred into her ear.
“I like a little stir.” Darla replied as his buttons hit the tile floor. She undid her own dress just as rapidly and climbed on top of Angelus. Darla bit into her wrist just enough to let a sheen of blood drip over Angelus’ swelling manhood, pressing herself onto him like the expert she had been in her past life.
Angelus rose just as the sun was preparing to set, he slowly moved Darla’s pale arm from his waist and un-entwined himself from her long legs. He stepped into the large washing room and turned the spout on the large tub. He felt the steam rising from the bath and slid into the hot water. He smiled to himself as the water turned slightly pink as he washed Darla’s blood from his body. He ran his fingers through his chestnut hair as he lowered his body into the water. Taking a palm full of the scented soap that rested on the small cabinet next to the tub, Angelus rubbed it over his thick chest working it into a lather. It wasn't long before Darla had entered the room to watch him. If there was one thing Darla insisted on it was that he was cleanly at all times he wasn't feeding.
When Angelus had finished his bath he helped Darla into hers. Gently washing her back and rich golden hair. Once they had washed the last day's blood and grime from their bodies Angelus and Darla set out in their fine new clothes to explore Madrid.
The pair walked from the Plaza Mayor through the city, coming to a party in full swing at one of the larger villas along the Plaza de Oriente. Men and women dressed in all the latest fashions lined the home's courtyard, chatting of the coming operas and festivals. There was talk of the massacre at the Convent de Bernardas in Bargos. The entire nunnery, it seemed, had been found at the altar in a state of complete undress, most of them had been ravaged and tortured, before being laid out in the gruesome display.
Darla and Angelus joined the party and made their way to the ballroom. The partygoers were dancing the Quadrille. The pair joined a group forming on the floor and together bowed to the couple on their right, and then their left. Angelus took Darla’s hands as the chasse zed to the left, then the right. They finished the dance with great style, much to the delight of the other couples in their group. They then excused themselves from the group and stepped back outside into the cooling night air.
“You are a stunning sight on the dance floor.” Angelus told his Sire, grabbing her thin waist, spinning her around the balcony.
“You're not so bad yourself.” Darla was about to kiss Angelus, when she felt someone watching them. She turned around just in time to see a figure pass behind a large hedge. “Angelus, we're being watched.”
“I know, I sensed him earlier at the hotel.” Angelus pulled Darla inside the ballroom again, where they joined in a waltz. “I think it's Luke.”
“What would Luke be doing in Madrid? He would never leave the Master's side.”
“Not without a reason, that is.” Angelus picked Darla up and swung her around as the band changed from the waltz into the Esmeralda. “We'll find out soon enough, he knows we're here. I say we enjoy what's left of this fine evening, and deal with the Master's lapdog in the morning.”
“Angelus, you can be such a fool.” She kissed him lightly as they danced. “Luke has never been beaten in a fight, he's older than I am, and stronger than you are.”
“And he's nearly as ugly as the Master himself. I would be ashamed to show my face if I didn't know how to pass amongst our prey with some veil of decency.”
“The Master does not care about passing for human, and neither does Luke, in fact in all my time with the Master, I never saw his human face. I thought Luke a fledgling who had not yet learned to control the mask, until I saw him fight for the first time.” Darla would never show fear in front of her Childe, but there was no harm in caution.
“Perhaps we should leave Madrid, we can follow the troupe to Barcelona.”
“And see Rigoletto on a stage that is older than I am. No.” Angelus shuddered at the thought of musty curtains and scarred floors beneath the dancer's feet. “We will attend the opera tomorrow night in utter style, we will take a box seat and enjoy the showing as it was meant to be seen. A premier should always take place on a new stage.”
“You will be the death of me yet, won't you?” Darla nipped at his lips.
“You're already dead, Darla.” He kissed her back and then led her off the dance floor.
Many of the guests were leaving the party as the night passed. A young couple came up to the vampires to invite them to a small gathering at their hotel room on the other side of the plaza. Darla graciously accepted and asked if there would be other couples attending. She was assured only one other pair would be there, a fellow Irishman and his English bride. Angelus admired the woman's tight dress and bosom, which appeared ready to burst from her corset as she talked. Yes, they were in need of some company who spoke their own tongue, as well. Nothing like English blood to combat the sweltering heat of the Spanish Autumn. Indeed it would be a most pleasurable night.
The two vampires made it back to the Plaza Mayor only moments before sunrise. Darla had taken a dark satin shawl from their generous hostess, which neatly covered a couple of stains she had been unfortunate enough to get on her new gown. Angelus had called a chambermaid to the room shortly after they arrived and asked her to try and get the wine stains out of his lady's dress, as it was her favorite. The poor woman had taken the heavy dress and the coins Angelus had placed in her hand and shook her head at him. She didn't think the stains would come out, but she would try. “And that is all I can ask” Angelus told her as she headed towards the door.
“Oh, one more thing, Senorita,” he had called after her, “is there a man traveling alone staying at the Hotel? He's a bit of a night person , as my lady and I are. We saw him at a ball earlier tonight and wanted to make his further acquaintance.”
“Yes, there is a man staying alone on the second floor, he has the room farthest to the west side of the hotel.” She seemed a little frightened of him. “I have not seen him myself.”
“That sounds like our man.” Angelus slipped a few more coins into her hand.
“I will bring the dress back this afternoon, sir.” She said.
“No hurry, dear.” Angelus shut the door and went to one of his cases. He took out a wooden stake and set it next to his bed. Darla entered from the washroom.
“What is that thing doing there?” she said, pointing at the stake.
“Don't worry, lover. I'll be careful.”
“That's not funny, what are you going to do with it.”
“I'm going to give Luke his wake-up call.” Angelus took his clothes off and slid under the sheets. Darla joined him and they fell fast asleep.
Angelus woke a few hours later. Dressing himself quickly, putting the stake under his coat.
“You're going now, it's still daylight.” He heard from under the covers.
“Only an hour or so left. Plenty of time to stake Luke, change my clothes and make the opera with time to spare.
Angelus took the stairs down to the second floor of the hotel, nodding to the few other guests he passed in the halls. He reached the last room of the west wing, listening carefully for sounds of movement within. Satisfied that there was none, he twisted the handle harshly, feeling the lock give a quiet snap. He entered the room and looked to the bed. Luke was lying on top of the covers, wearing only his trousers.
‘This is a little too easy’, Angelus thought. He drew the stake from his coat and slowly moved towards Luke's still sleeping body. “Good morning my little lapdog.” he whispered. As Angelus raised the stake in the air, Luke opened his eyes, just barely catching Angelus’ downward thrust.
Angelus hit him against the cheek hard, giving him a wake-up jolt. Luke bolted out of the bed and lunged at Angelus.
“The Master sends his regards,” Luke yelled as he again lunged at Angelus. “You were a fool to think the two of you could leave him.” Angelus easily dodged Luke's sleepy punches. He spun around and caught Luke's jaw under his right foot. Luke landed on the floor, but quickly jumped to his feet, towering over Angelus by several inches. Angelus threw a succession of quick punches landing each one against his head and chest. He again raised his stake aiming at Luke's heart, but was again deflected.
“The Master is too busy plotting and planning to be of any interest to me. I prefer to live a little.” He jumped forward catching Luke around the midsection knocking him to the ground. He grabbed a lamp off the end table and shattered its heavy base over Luke's brow. The blood began to flow freely from the cut the lamp had left.
“The pair of you make me ill, leaving a trail of blood from Ireland to Spain.” Luke once again tried to connect with Angelus’ face but missed. “What is it with you and convents anyway?”
Angelus threw Luke against the wall raising his knee to Luke's ribs with a hard jerk. “They're like great big cookie jars. So full of yummy treats, you should try it sometime.”
Angelus tossed Luke to the side of the bed and made a quick dash for the window. He grabbed the curtain and pulled it open as he moved to the side. Rays from the setting sun spread across the room. Luke in his unprotected position was hit and began to smoke. He grabbed the blankets from the bed and covered himself, but the damage had been done. Angelus shut the curtain and ripped the blankets from Luke's burned body. He looked around for the stake but didn't see it.
“You are a lucky one aren't you? I'm feeling unusually magnanimous this fine evening, seeing as it's my birthday and all. I think I'll let you live. You can go back to that wreck of a master of yours and tell him Darla and I will be just fine without his sending his fledglings after us.” Angelus gave Luke a hard pat on his burnt shoulder. “See you round boyo.”
Angelus headed back across the hotel to his room. He opened the door ready to hurry in and change for the opera, but was met by Darla standing at the ready with a stake in her hand.
“I'm sorry, I know I'm late, but will that really be necessary?” Darla lowered the stake and glared at him.
“What took you so long?”
“I decided staking him in his sleep would be ungentlemanly of me.” Angelus went into the washroom with Darla trailing on his heels.
“Hurry up. We'll never find good seats if you doddle about.” She helped him out of his ruffled clothes and into his finery. Darla tied his black silk cravat into a neat bow. She then pulled his hair back into a ponytail handing him his hat. Placing her bonnet onto her head, Darla tied her own bow and took Angelus’ arm. Together they descended the stairs into the lobby. As they exited the building, Angelus overheard a couple telling the porter they had received one of the best booths for the performance of Rigoletto.
“Would those be boxed seats, my good fellow?” Angelus asked.
“Aye,” The man replied, “very fine seats indeed.”
“Well, by all means, I invite you to walk with my lady and I to El Teatro. You never know what kind of evil may be lurking around the next corner.”
“Angelus, you are weeping like a school child.” Darla looked up at him from his lap.
“I know, lover, and I can't for the life of me tell of it's the performance of our good Duke of Mantua on the stage, or my talented Sire in the box.”
“Have you enjoyed your stay in Madrid, Childe?”
“Oh, I think this birthday may hold fond memories for me for sometime.” Angelus toyed with the ringlets flowing from under her bonnet. “What do you say we continue our tour of Europe’s sisterly orders after our Spanish Holiday?”
“Angelus, can't we go back to London?”
“It just so happens there are some lovely convents in London, or so I'm told.”
Copyright 2002-2003 - Tania
Violators will be whipped until it isn't fun any more!