"Yes?" I craned my neck as I rode away.
"When you see Amalie, tell her…" He swallowed, pulling out his sword, ready for the enemy's attack.
"Yes?" I asked. He wasn't going to leave my like this, not telling me his last words. "Tell her what?"
"Tell her you're the love of my life, my purgatory, and after," Angel said, followed by a scream as he began his war.
Night Von Sorrow sent black crows, black panthers, and the darkest vampires after Angel, intending to punish him with death for treason. No one had the heart or guts to oppose Night Von Sorrow, so Angel was alone, diverting his pursuers so I could reach Murano safely. He was determined to keep his promise.
Angel was hunted by everyone, not just his father's army. Humans, who outnumbered vampires in this time of history, hunted Angel as well. So he was on his own, trying not to kill the humans and escape them at the same time, and also killing every dark creature his father sent after him.
And I rode away to Murano.
Luckily, I never fought anyone. All I did was keep to myself and hide in a cave or treetop all day then continue traveling at night, although I had the feeling I was being tailed by the same man in black who'd killed the soldiers at my castle in Styria. But it might have been an illusion.
At the shores of Italy, I had to book a ferryman to cross the waters to the island of Murano. Penniless and exhausted, I didn't have a clue how to achieve that. It occurred to me to tell one of the ferrymen that I was of a noble descent, that I was the main reason for the Blood Apple he was biting. But that would have only led to my capture, as I glimpsed a few of my father's soldiers around the shore—I didn't know how to identify a vampire then, so if they were around, I didn't notice them.
Watching the sun sinking low, I considered sneaking into one of the boats, disguised as one of the many veiled Italian women crossing over. It had been Angel's idea to wear a veil since we escaped so I'd go on unrecognized. But I couldn't do it. Not because of my cowardice or inexperience, but because of my fear of water.
I wasn't going to try and see my reflection in the waters anyway. My family, in spite of our differences, still meant a lot to me. It was also too dark at the shore after the sun had died in the nighttime waters. But the shaky and small boat didn't offer much safety, and my unreasonable fear of the unknown—the water—knew no salvation.
I ended up standing helpless at the shores, watching everyone merrily crossing over to Murano as if they were taking their boats over the River Styx, but crossing over to heaven.
"I could help you for a price," I heard someone say.
When I turned around, I saw a thin and scruffy man in a purple suit. He looked more clownish than elegant, although the French nobleman's outfit suggested he was wealthy.
"How much can you pay to cross over to the bay?" His hands hung in the air theatrically, as if he were a ringmaster trying to entice me into a circus.
"I don't have any money." I didn't fear him. He was neither a Karnstein nor a Sorrow. Frankly, he didn't look like he belonged here.
"Who said the price is always money?" He smirked.
I pulled my veil tighter around me and took a step back.
"No." He flashed his hands again. "You misunderstood me, my friend."
"How can you help me, then?" I was desperate.
"I have a boat." He pointed at one at the shore. "And I only take one passenger with me. For a price, like I said."
"If you say I misunderstood you, then what price would you have me pay?"
"Nah." He waved his hand. "Nothing really special." He cocked his head. "I'm a nice guy—well, not everyone thinks that, but that's how I think of myself. I help people, actually." He glanced at the sky momentarily, and then his cheeks twitched. "Let me rephrase that: I help desperate people."
"What would you have me pay?" I insisted, thinking to get away from him.
"Your soul." He smiled. He wanted it to be a sincere smile, but it came out really awkward. Not weird, but as if he wasn't really good at what he did. "Would you mind selling me your soul?" He seemed desperate now. I almost laughed.
"Are you who I think you are?" I squinted in the dark.
"I have a lot of silly names," he said. "But I'm only trying to help."
"Help?" I chuckled. "You do dress silly, I must say. You're nothing like I pictured you."
"Really?" He was disappointed. "I was told this was the latest fashion in Europe."
"I'm really disappointed in you," I said. "I mean, you're so feared all over the world. How did you manage to make people fear you like that?"
"I paid a few people, generously, at the beginning of time," he said. "You seed an idea in people's heads for centuries, and you got yourself a place in history. Could you please not tell anyone?"
I didn't know what to say or feel. In my darkest moment, I got my release, laugh, and joy from a reluctant devil. How ironic was that?