Aphrodite

Startled awake by loud knocking for the second time, Rachel groggily threw off her blankets. Swinging her legs out of bed, she caught sight of the time — 2 PM. She’d overslept again, leaving her rushed to finish a new pitch due by tonight. Perhaps her mother’s suggestion to call in sick wasn’t such a bad idea.

Memories from the previous evening began to resurface — the encounter with Vlad and Darius, the purple lights. Puzzled, she wondered how she’d made it back home and, more intriguingly, how Darius knew where she lived.

Shaking away her bewildered thoughts, Rachel stood up, noticing she was still in yesterday’s black dress. She swiftly changed into a cozy shirt and shorts. On her way to the door, she saw her reflection: ponytail messed up and makeup smeared.

Rachel marched across her apartment and flung the front door open. Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms encircle her in a tight embrace. The scent orange perfume instantly told her it was Beth.

“Where’ve you been?” Beth pulled back to eye Rachel up and down. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t been feeling well,” Rachel mumbled, yawning and moving back into the apartment.

Beth eagerly stepped inside, shutting the door. “I’ve been trying to reach you! I was about to call the police.”

“A bit of an overreaction, Beth. And, you talked to my mother,” Rachel pointed out.

“Yeah, she wished me happy birthday. But seriously, you look awful. Did you go out without me last night?”

With her back turned, Rachel rolled her eyes. A day of silence was enough to push Beth into panic mode. Sighing, she let herself fall onto the couch. “Yeah, I did go out.”

Beth’s arms folded. “What’s happening with you?”

“Nothing. I had an appointment, and I didn’t look at my phone,” Rachel lied.

Beth settled next to her and gave her a hug. Even though Beth could be a bit much at times, her closeness always had a calming effect. As their skin made contact, Rachel saw a faint purple glow transfer from Beth’s arm to hers. Surprisingly, the simple act of hugging seemed to generate essence.

“So, did you find Mr Mysterious?” Rachel asked.

“No, but last night I ran into that guy who was eyeing you on Friday, the one who sent over the drink. He was incredibly good-looking,” Beth said, sinking comfortably into the lounge. “I believe his name was Vlad.”

Rachel abruptly straightened. “What? Even after what I shared with you?”

Beth waved off her concern. ” I think you’d just had a little too much to drink Rach Vampires? Come on, that woman looked more drunk than hypnotised.”

The colour drained from Rachel’s face as she envisioned Vlad luring Beth with his charm, only to betray her with a fatal bite. Her eyes darted to Beth’s neck, a wave of relief washing over her at the absence of any marks. “When did you go there?”

“Just last night. Tiffany and I were hopping bars, and it was the only place letting people in after midnight. And guess what? He asked about you.”

Rachel’s concern grew. Beth had been to Vlad’s place without knowing the danger, and Vlad knew they were connected. The idea of him approaching Beth wasn’t just unsettling because he sought information; it risked Beth’s safety too.

“I hope you didn’t tell him anything.”

“You’ve got to relax. You’ll never hook-up with a guy if you don’t take a little risk every now and again.”

“You should focus on Mr. Mysterious. The last thing you want is to be getting involved in a guy who probably has more than one mistress.” Rachel needed to steer clear of Vlad’s manipulations, especially through Beth.

Beth daydreamed aloud, “But think about him without a shirt—or even less.”

“No, just no. Keep your thoughts inside your head.”

The abrupt buzzing of her phone on the coffee table caught Rachel’s attention. She picked it up, finding it bombarded with missed calls, texts, and emails.

Beth, ever so casual, remarked, “Guess you’re all set for the exhibition. Surprised you’re not a bundle of nerves.”

Rachel facepalmed. “Oh no! How could I forget?” Panic set in. “Beth, this is huge, and I lost track of everything.”

“Good thing I swung by,” Beth consoled her, patting her back.

Rachel’s moment of clarity was harsh and immediate. In her quest for answers about Vlad and the unsettling sight of his fangs that Friday night, she had made the ill-advised decision to return to the club on Saturday. This single-minded pursuit had clouded her judgment to the extent that her exhibition had completely slipped her mind—a foolish oversight she deeply regretted.

****

Rachel’s beloved art pieces were showcased in a charming old wharf along the harbor, a breathtaking venue boasting wooden floors and towering ceilings held aloft by impressive, exposed beams. A gentle sea breeze drifted in through the quaint, slatted glass windows.

This exclusive exhibition opened its doors only to those who had pre-purchased tickets, drawing a crowd well-versed in the art world. This tight-knit community atmosphere posed a challenge for newcomers like Rachel to make their mark alongside seasoned artists and their fans.

The attendees dressed with an understated elegance, women in flowing dresses or skirts showcasing a spectrum of colours, from classic black to vibrant florals, creating a laid-back yet lively ambiance reminiscent of a bustling Saturday market. This suggested a crowd with an appreciation for art in their personal spaces.

Among the four artists presenting, it was Rachel’s debut. She showcased ten carefully chosen pieces, including four on large canvases, a scale she had long shied away from due to the greater time and logistical challenges involved.

Rachel’s collection primarily consisted of medium-sized paintings, leading her to sift through her portfolio in recent weeks to select those aligned with a cohesive theme of travel. For this show, she opted for her cherished landscape pieces.

Watching attendees scrutinise her art among those of the city’s esteemed artists made Rachel anxious and exposed. The onlookers’ discussions around her work filled her with doubt, making her question the merit of her paintings being displayed alongside seasoned artists.

Since arriving at the event, Rachel had been clutching the same glass of sparkling wine, finding it helpful in calming her nerves. However, she had only managed to consume half of it, concerned that she might become too tipsy.

Beth, meanwhile, was fully enjoying the free-flowing wine and snacks beside her. With each sip, her volume increased, and soon she was humorously critiquing the scarcity of eligible bachelors.

“I’d have better luck finding single guys at the grocery store,” Beth remarked, somewhat disappointed. “I thought art events were the place to be. Turns out, everyone’s either hitched or not exactly in our age group.”

“It’s not a nightclub. People don’t come here to party and hook up. They are either coming here to appreciate art, or buy art. Or both.”

“But I thought there would be some wealthy men that would come and appreciate some art?” Beth chuckled, downing her third glass. “Sorry, Rach. This is your special day. Your art is getting a lot of attention.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. They’re all keeping their thoughts to themselves.”

Visitors navigated the exhibition in a peculiar, almost rhythmic manner, drifting from painting to painting. They pointed and whispered, admiring the brushwork and detail yet remained silent on their overall impressions of the art. This absence of clear feedback left Rachel feeling increasingly vulnerable, as though she were laid bare before the onlookers.

“Why not go and talk to them? Ask them what they think?” Beth nudged Rachel encouragingly

Rachel gave her friend a disbelieving look. “Are you serious? I can’t just barge in on their conversations.”

“Wasn’t the point of this show to get their opinion? Get your art and your name out into the world?” Beth may have been tipsy, but she was right.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I need to go to the bathroom. Can you get me another glass?” Beth slurred, weaving towards the hallway with her glass still in hand.

A voice caught Rachel off guard, sending a shiver down her spine. “You seem to doubt yourself, yet there’s a confidence in your art that speaks volumes,” said a familiar voice from behind her, his breath grazing her neck.

Startled, Rachel spun around, nearly dousing the man behind her with her drink. “Vlad? What are you doing here?”

“Just doing a bit of digging,” Vlad replied coolly. “You didn’t seriously think you could entangle our lives and I’d just stand by, did you?”

Her eyes darted around anxiously, fearing what he might do next. This art exhibition was her passion and dream, and he had the power to shatter everything. “Please, just leave,” she urged, her voice quivering with unease.

Vlad, seemingly oblivious to her distress, nodded towards one of her paintings. “Tell me, what inspired this one?”

Keeping her distance, Rachel followed him. Despite the tension, she noted Vlad’s effort to blend in, donning black jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a brown leather jacket for the occasion.

“A dream. All my landscape artworks are inspired by dreams.”

Facing her, Vlad arched an eyebrow. “You dream up these locations? Your imagination must be incredibly vivid. These pieces are so detailed, it’s almost as though you’ve visited them.”

“They aren’t real places.”

“All of these sprung from your dreams?” His doubt inadvertently felt like praise to Rachel.

He moved to study one of the more prominent paintings adorning the back wall. “And this one?” he asked, gesturing towards the artwork.

“I’ve never been to any of these places.”

“But this is so familiar. It reminds me of Egypt.”

“I’m not sure where it was, but I think I was going for a more tropical area like South America.”

Vlad studied the painting more closely. “It strongly resembles the Nile, with the shoreline huts mirroring ancient dwellings, and there’s even a temple I recognise. It’s striking how you’ve captured such detail from a dream.”

She bit her lip, sensing an excuse in his prolonged interest. “I can’t speak to ancient Egypt’s appearance. And how would you know—unless you’re really as ancient as you imply?”

“Vampires are survivors. I don’t think I am old, but I have lived a long time and have been to many places. It is unfortunate that our method for obtaining essence made us a threat, and many of us were outcast. We became nomadic creatures.”

Rachel couldn’t help but think cynically that his nomadic lifestyle was likely due to more sinister reasons—perhaps his predation on young women had led villages to chase him away, his survival depending on either swiftness or strength to evade their pursuers. “Can you please leave? I don’t want to cause a commotion here. I’m working on breaking this bond, but it’s going to take some time.”

Vlad’s expression softened. “I have no intentions of stirring trouble, unless you do. I’m here to understand who you are, to know the person I find myself unexpectedly bonded with.”

“You don’t think vampires were outcast because they threatened and killed their prey?”

Vlad dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, focusing again on the artwork. “It’s uncommon for us to kill for essence. Like humans, a few of our kind misused their power, tarnishing our reputation.” He moved to another painting. “Italy has always been a dangerous ground for the Aphrodite. Have you been?”

Rachel shook her head. “As I said, they’re all from dreams. I haven’t travelled since finishing my studies. I’ve never seen Italy, and I doubt the place I painted is real.”

“Oh, it exists. Mount Etna.”

Drawing nearer to Vlad, Rachel positioned herself alongside him. “You and I are very different people, aren’t we?”

Vlad tilted his head, eyeing her with interest. “How do you mean?”

“You see a volcano where I see a mountain. There’s no lava or ash cloud coming out of that mountain.”

His laughter lightened the mood, a warm smile softening his features. “Don’t let the snow fool you, that is very much Etna. It is interesting, you paint as if you are standing on a balcony overlooking Catania. Your works are captivating. I’d purchase them all, under one condition, though.”

Rachel felt a warm flush on her cheeks, the highest praise coming from someone she viewed with apprehension. “Oh?”

Vlad moved nearer, his whispered words trailing along her ear. “Break the bond.”

Her heart dropped, the harsh reality setting in once more. Because of her shield, the only tactic he had left was persuasion. “I’ve told you, I don’t know how. Do you have any idea?”

“You are the Aphrodite. This is your area of expertise.”

Keen to avoid a heavy discussion amidst her exhibition and with Beth not far off, Rachel shifted gears. “Why is Italy considered dangerous?”

Vlad’s attention returned to the artwork. “Legend claims that Etna houses a spirit, a god that dwells between realms. It’s believed the Abaddon was cast into Etna, losing his physical form to the underworld. Rumours suggest the being who defeated the Abaddon then pursued his Aphrodite.”

Rachel recalled the vivid dream she had had about Italy, where she had witnessed the Abaddon’s flames destroying the city walls and screams echoing through the air.

“What happened to her?”

Vlad gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know. My memories of that time are foggy; I think I was in Athens, not exactly in a sober state.” He let out a nostalgic sigh. “Life was simpler. Humans revered creatures like us, and we coexisted peacefully.”

Rachel’s attention shifted to the Beth, who was now chatting and laughing with a man in his late forties on the other side of the exhibition, champagne in hand.

Turning back to Vlad with a desperate plea in her eyes, Rachel voiced her concern. “Please,” she implored. “No one should get hurt because of this.”

Vlad’s expression turned grave. “This bond is changing me. My desire for essence has intensified, and restraining myself is becoming increasingly difficult. If this bond isn’t severed soon, I can’t predict the consequences.”

Feeling overwhelmed, Rachel admitted, “I need help. I don’t know what it is I am meant to do.”

Vlad considered for a moment. “I’ll send Darius your way. Maybe he can help us figure this out.”