let it burn - valentina

[curbside prophecies]

<center>


You know that it would be untrue,
you know that I would be a liar
if I was to say to you, "Girl,
we couldn't get much higher."

The time to hesitate is through,
no time to wallow in the mire.
Try now, we can only lose --
and our love become a funeral pyre.

Come on, baby light my fire --
Try to set the night on fire.

-- The Doors, "Light My Fire."</center>

[curbside prophecies]

<font face="arial">Dear Gian,

I trust this letter finds you well and that you are enjoying life in your beautiful Venice. I can imagine you there: settled in a bench near a piazza with your paper settled on the seat beside you and all the various characters of the colorful marketplace moving around you. You would laugh at the children playing in the fountains and eagerly leap to your feet in order to help the nearest elderly woman move through the crowd towards the street on the other side of the square. You are happy there. You were always happy in Venice. All those years we spent racing around the globe could have been better spent by letting you linger in Venice. I know that now.

Do not fear, this letter is not my way of starting up the old game. You are content in your city of romance and Italian opulence and I will not disturb you. I would not wish to have you come racing after me anymore, Gian. My blood does not boil when I think of you and my blackened little heart (as you so fondly called it) does not beat with the need to see you pay for your sins. I absolve you of them, though perhaps I am the one who should be looking to you for forgiveness. Apologies are not often used by my people, wanderlust strikes us well before our mistakes are even noticed more often then not, and so I will only say that I am aware of my wrongdoing and hope you will not hate me for all eternity.

I will not say that I am happy here in the West Bank -- though the string of violence and terrorism gives me a scapegoat to blame all of my temper tantrums on, though I promise I haven't blown up quite so many buildings as I used to do. I believe the months in this land of eternal sunshine has changed my powers, making them easier to control. There are times when I wish you were here to see the men and women in their elegant robes and listen to them speak in their guttural tongues, but they are few and far between.

I have become like Nadia and all the others of our kind, set apart from the grace of humanity and destined to live on the fringe for all eternity. At least we have the chance to change our faces every now and then, so we are not sentenced to staring at the same reflection for centuries on end.

This will be the last letter I send, Gian. I feel the winds of change calling my name, they ask me to move on and I must answer. I will bury all of my memories of the past in the sand of the West Bank before boarding the train that will take me to the West. A new life -- a new beginning.


Yours,
Valentina </font>

[curbside prophecies]

The suite was decorated in pastel blues and white, helping to make the space seem larger then it actually was. The doors to the balcony were left open, a gentle breeze ruffling at the curtains and filling the air with the heady scent of the Aegean. All of Athens was laid out before her and she, like a true Contessa, observed it all from her perch on high; sharp hips pressed against the iron railing and dark spilling down her back in waves, until the breeze ran its fingers through the silky strands. As mysterious as a Mideastern woman with her face hidden by a wealth of veils, her sloe-eyes were guarded and her mouth hidden by the rim of her tea cup. She wished it could have been something stronger -- but knew better then to bring a flammable substance close to herself.

She did not know why her wanderings had led her here. It wasn't that she had anything against Athens, but Greece had never been a country she was overly fond of. Perhaps it was the need to see peace and a culture of civilized adventurers after spending so many months in the land of eternal violence and sun. Or perhaps it was because she simply wanted to see the old stone monuments, to remind herself that she and those graceful statues of powerful gods and goddesses had a great deal in common: they were both sentenced to eternal life, and use mortals as pawns in order to keep themselves entertained, keep themselves involved in a world that moved forward with leaps and bounds every single day.

"We should be leaving," announced a gruff voice from behind her, though the man was careful to linger in the shadows of the room, away from the few remaining rays the setting sun cast upon the balcony.

"Soon," she replied without looking over her shoulder, fingers curling about the rail until her knuckles turned white.

"I grow weary of this, Valentina. We have spent far too much time in this city already."

"Another few days won't hurt anything, Raoul."

"We had a deal."

"I remember."

She turned finally to regard the vampire who haunted her rooms with flashing eyes, the fire crackling beneath her skin melting her insides and priming her body for a fight that would never happen.

"And?"

"I'll hold up my end of the bargain."

"How do I know you won't try to run? Hm, lovely Valentina?"

The sun had faded from the sky, making it possible for Raoul to move forward, cornering her at the rail with his presence moreso then his body.

"I'm not a cheat."

She was lucky that Gian was not present, otherwise he might have disagreed.

"I should hope not, my beautiful bird, for your sake."