Charon is much more than a creature of darkness. Stripped of all humanity in order to fulfill his calling in Hell long ago, he lingers in the mortal world with no purpose to his existence. Bored of life, and death, he succumbs to the deep, protective veils of vampiric sleep. But when his former mistress calls to him from beyond the dead for vengeance, he is captivated by the alluring vision of a dark-skinned vampiress she wants him to destroy. Aroused by more than just his mistress’ avenging plea, he must also satisfy a blood debt he owes to her. Once more, Charon rises forth into the mortal world. Although a cold purveyor of death in his selfishness, his encounters with the intended target teach him that love is indeed possible for dark creatures such as them–but is love possible for him?
A voice edged into my consciousness, calling to me. “Charon?”
I opened my eyes. Between the world of the living and the land of the dead, I lay staring up at a ceiling that swirled with the moonlight reflected from the river near my window. This sight soothed me, having spent so many years atop the water’s surface in my boat. Things had changed since I had left my appointed duty. I had languished among the living—tormenting them at times, lusting after them at others—until as I do from time to time, I get bored and rest. I have many names in many tongues, but the one I prefer to be called is Charon, for it is the oldest and the one associated with the most mystery, and it was this name the spirit called me with, having repeated the single word to gain my attention. As I watched the light dance and sway, slowly letting the awareness of awakening settle over me, I felt the familiar touch of a soul I once knew.
Karada’s spirit came to me that lonely night and wafted along the edge of my consciousness. She had few words to offer, being a selfish creature in her living years. She was no different now that death had taken her. It saddened me to know that I could never again play with the wonder of her body or toy with her childlike mind. She begged for revenge and sent me visions of a young vampire, dark of skin and bearing a most rare gift—feathered wings like those of the angels on high. This image whetted my lustful appetite, something dormant for many years now. The beauty of my ex-lover’s murderess could not be denied. I rolled on my side while I contemplated this vision.
“Why do you ask for revenge from me, of all creatures within your power to visit?”
“You owe me,” was all her soul said.
She had a point. She had me at that. I owed her for all I’d done, all I’d stolen from her. She hadn’t had much of a life to speak of when I found her in Egypt. A pleasure to look upon and to fuck, she’d have gone the way of the whores before her soon enough. But she amused me, so I made her mine and taught how to amuse me further on dark nights when the souls passed my way before they entered the next plane. Karada had been a skillful, if not demanding, lover.
I did owe her for the years I had stolen from her, even if she left me in the end. It hurt to think of that morning, of waking to an empty bed and every piece of pottery in my home shattered across the marble floors. She had a nasty temper, and breaking my collection was the surest way to hurt me without slitting my throat…not that I could die. Death had abandoned me long ago and took with it all my humanity.
“Very well,” I muttered and pushed my tired form from the mattress. Dust had settled in my bedchamber. It puffed in the air when I brushed at my sleeping clothes. “I will find this one you want me to kill and see if her time can come sooner.”