The Revelation of Dacey Sinnett

Chapter Eleven: A Risky Venture

Feldkirch, Vorarlberg

Austria

1887

"Herr Sinnett, must you really go?", the middle aged woman inquired with disappointment as she exhaled an exhausted but passionate breath.  Just moments before, Dacey had retracted his fangs from her wrist as she climaxed beneath him.  Now, he was quickly scooping up his clothing and pulling the pieces on with hurried precision.

The woman brushed blonde sweat laden curls out of her face and rolled over on the canopy bed to watch him with hopeful eyes.  She glanced down at her wrist wistfully.

"It's always a pleasure, Madame Henning.  You're very good to me.", Dacey granted her a mischievous grin as he finished dressing.  He placed his crimson top hat on and grabbed a black walking cane which featured an ornate copper top that was sculpted into a rose, with a ruby at its center, that he had rested against the wall.  His suit was the same crimson one that used to belong to Marcus.  He'd had it tailored to fit him and, although he owned many fine clothes, it was his favorite for sentimental reasons.

"I do appreciate when your husband is away on business.", he added.  "However, I'm afraid I still have to watch my own schedule.  I've someone waiting on me at home, as well."

"You cad!", she laughed with mock incredulity.  "Well, I suppose I'll let you be off then.  Do, please, call again soon."

"Oh, you know I will.", Dacey assured the woman as he tipped his hat appreciatively before quietly exiting her bed chamber.

* * *

It was roughly three o'clock and the night breeze was cool and crisp.  It smelled of pine and earthy water which always caused Dacey to wish he still had the luxury of filling his lungs with its divine refreshment.

He cast his eyes up at the mountaintops in the distance.  Even in the night, under the soft moonlight, the snow caps seemed to dance as their reflection glistened.  It had been nearly a decade since he moved in with Marcus at his estate but he still felt overwhelmed by the town's beauty every time he laid his eyes upon it.  Part of him longed to know what it looked like in daylight.  How magnificent it must be.

He wound his way down the cobbled lanes back to the massive rouge colored four-story estate that he now called home.  He loved it there.  Marcus had delivered on every promise that he'd made Dacey that fateful night so many years ago.  He'd enjoyed massive wealth, attended lavish parties, entertained some of the most important figures in the world, and Marcus had remained just as enamored with him as when they first met.  As a result, Dacey found himself bonded so tightly to Marcus that he knew it wasn't just the fetter of a progeny to his sire but something more.  He had no words to express it.  "Soulmates" would not do since they hadn't souls; so they simply called it "destiny", as Marcus had once prescribed it, so assuredly, upon their meeting.

Dacey placed his walking cane into a blue and white porcelain holder they kept near the door and hung up his coat and hat on a nearby brass rack.  His ears perked up at the faint sound of Wagner emanating from an Edison phonograph tube upstairs.  Marcus must be in his study.  He always played Wagner when he was on to something.

"Up to  your old tricks, dear heart?", Dacey teased as he entered the spacious study on the third floor.  Marcus was leaned over his enormous Gothic rosewood table with a brass and crimson fountain pen clenched between his teeth as he carefully scrutinized a mess of maps and documents before him.  Without flinching or looking up to acknowledge Dacey's sudden presence, Marcus took the pen from his mouth and began to circle something on one of the maps.