The Bite of Vengeance by Connor Wolf

one day he would return and destroy the Pope, as was his destiny. Roconn formed a plan. He would set out at dusk and travel to Venice where he would find whoever had captured his wife, and end their life.
    Hours passed. Dawn came and went. When dusk finally arrived, Roconn was ready. His detailed map still lay secured within the folds of his highly complex, vampiric brain. Roconn paced the small, dingy, one-roomed shack. It was very plain, with no furniture hugging the bare walls, there was no carpeting, nor any rugs, on the compacted dirt. Roconn thought for a moment and then drew his cloak around him, pulling up the hood so that he could travel incognito.
    Ten minutes later, he was wandering the dusty, deserted streets of Rome. Buildings towered over him as he walked. Carts and barrels were scattered haphazardly around the side streets and in front of shops. Alleyways shot off in every direction; one could easily get lost here. Lanterns lit up the street, and flies swarmed around an upturned cart of food waste. A cat meowed somewhere in the distance. Roconn was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice a man peering over a window ledge a few feet above him. Roconn strolled onwards. He knew where he would go. He would call upon an old friend who would surely know where Maria had last been seen. This person had a lot of spies and friends. If anything happened in Venice, he would be the one to know about it.
    A warm breeze blew across the street, bringing with it a very familiar scent which he recognised the second it reached his nostrils. Maria. Roconn inhaled a lungful of air. The smell was coming from an alleyway ahead, on his right. He reached the mouth of the alleyway in a split second. Maria’s scent grew stronger as he silently crept along the path. A building overshadowed the alleyway and a large, twelve-foot wall on the left created a new, very narrow, alleyway. As Roconn walked on, another familiar scent reached his nose. He could not remember where he had smelt it before. This worried him more. Had an ally turned enemy?
    Roconn started to shake. Maria was a royal vampire, a clan-leader like himself. Someone, or something, must have been powerful enough to capture her. This thought did nothing to ease his fear. Roconn reached a point in the centre of the alleyway where Maria’s scent was strongest. His cat-like night vision spotted a spatter of deep-crimson blood on the wall to his left. Roconn felt as though his blood might boil with built up anger. He must find Maria before it was too late. Once again, he inhaled the familiar scent so that, if he came across it again, he would recognise it.

Venice
    Roconn would continue searching for Maria, but first he needed to journey to Venice. He headed for a nearby tavern in order to find someone who could take him there. They would be well paid. Roconn was a wealthy man who carried a large purse of coins in case such needs arose. Roconn reached the large tavern, known as The Traveller’s Den, its windows glowing with the many candles inside, and opened the door. Light spilled onto the road. Inside, wooden tables and stools were scattered around a spacious room. The bar was long and swamped by loud, fat, men who were shouting and cursing in Italian. Roconn took an unoccupied stool at the bar. At once the barmaid was upon him.
    â€˜Ciao signore, cosa posso fare per te?’ she asked.
    Roconn, who was fluent in Italian, understood that she was asking. He also knew that he needed to find a carriage driver.
    â€˜Sto cercando di assumere un cocchiere,’ he replied.
    â€˜Si,’ she said and beckoned him towards a door at the back of the bar.
    She opened it and he followed her in. Once they were inside she shut the door behind them. The room was small and, apart from one man sitting on a stool, empty.
    â€˜Grazie,’ said Roconn to the woman, who retreated to the tavern.
    â€˜Hello,’ said the man.
    He was short, dumpy, and cleanly shaven