A SILVER STRAND OF HAIR

Malcolm left the Domus Aurea unnoticed. Once again, his steps led him across the ruins, turning too purposefully towards a particular crumbling wall from antiquity for it to be mere chance. His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to the peculiar girl and the red velvet mask he now kept in his coffin. Malcolm sat on a marble block, leaning his back against a column stump, watching the swiftly passing clouds that intermittently veiled the stars and the half-moon. A passage from a Shakespearean play came to his mind, and he murmured the verses softly.

Suddenly, he paused, sitting up straight. Footsteps approached. It wasn't the hurried pace of a nighttime pedestrian nor the swaying stumble of a drunkard. The steps were slow and deliberate, punctuated by pauses. Branches rustled. The scent of the girl reached his nose, and Malcolm knew what that meant. She had returned to search for what she had lost here. She smelled damnably enticing!

Malcolm's breath quickened. He could now see her moving through the bushes and stone blocks, slowly drawing nearer. Her gaze scanned the branches, then the ground, then the next bush. The lamp illuminated her face. Although she wore a dress and a simple lady's coat tonight, there was no mistaking her. She wasn't exactly beautiful, quite unlike the two vampires from Vienna, yet she exuded something that attracted him beyond her warm blood. It was her seriousness and determination, so familiar to his nature. Something shimmered in her eyes, out of place for a girl her age.

She would have passed him without noticing him had he not spoken up. Frantically, he searched his mind for the bits of Italian he had learned. "Buona sera signorina, cerca qualcosa?"

Latona started, pressing her palms against her racing heart. Then she spotted the boy who had addressed her. She held the lantern a little higher, studying the symmetrical face, blonde hair, and tweed clothes that seemed painfully familiar. His accent sent a pang through her chest.

"Yes, I'm looking for something I lost a few days ago," she answered in polished English, though it had been many years since she could call it her native tongue.

The boy smiled at her, his blue eyes shining like two stars. "You speak English well. Luckily. My Italian is atrocious."

Latona nodded and smiled back. How pale he was. He couldn't have been in Rome for long. "I'm Latona, and you?"

"Malcolm." He nodded at her and gestured invitingly to the stone block beside him. "Do sit. It's a wonderful night, and it's nice to chat in one's native tongue."

She hesitated. There was something about him that scared her. Part of her mind commanded her to run away as fast as her legs could carry her. Yet another part of her was fascinated by this handsome, polite stranger. He was so unlike the boys she knew, the ones who teased girls, pulled their braids, and threw stones at cats. He was so serious and adult, and he looked at her with an intensity that made her knees weak. She sank onto the stone block.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"I'm enjoying the night. The moon and the stars, the smells and sounds that only get to rule the world at this time." She didn't know what she expected, but certainly not something so poetic. Latona shook her head in amazement.

"What's wrong?"

"You're so - different. Different from all the boys I've met in my life."

Malcolm chuckled softly. A wonderful sound that made her heart beat faster. "Yes, that's quite possible. But you also seem different from other girls to me. At least I haven't heard it's common here to wander alone through the ruins at night - and especially not dressed as a boy and wearing red masks on your face."

Latona froze. "You saw me that night? Then it was you who frightened me so?"

Malcolm inclined his head. "That was not my intention. But won't you satisfy my curiosity a little? What great secret does the night hide from your fellow men?"

Latona hesitated. With each moment she spent with him, his allure grew stronger. It was as if an aura surrounded him, intoxicating her like heavy wine. Her senses seemed both confused and sharpened at the same time. And this fascinating boy was interested in her and wanted to hear her story! How trivial it would sound if she told him she had only borrowed the clothes from her uncle? She could already see him turning away from her disappointed. Latona tucked a strand of hair that had come loose in the night breeze behind her ear and tried to give her smile a touch of mystery. "Well, actually, I'm not supposed to talk about it," she said slowly. "I will keep silent about it." There was no mockery in his voice.

"I belong to a secret organization. The Circle of the Red Masks." She looked up at him.

He nodded still serious. "That came to mind. And what is this organization?"

"We protect the people of Rome from evil!" Now his eyebrows raised slightly. He probably didn't quite believe her. "It's true! While people sleep, we fight against evil forces. We risk our lives and our souls!"

"How so?" he asked astonished. "What kind of demons do you fight against?"

Latona took a deep breath and said only one word: "Vampires!"

Malcolm fell silent. He still looked at her intently. He seemed even more attentive now. "Vampires," he repeated softly after a while.

"Vampires!" Latona confirmed a little sharper than she intended. "You probably don't believe in them? But I assure you, they exist! And my uncle is a famous vampire hunter, and I have been assisting him for years."

"I do believe in vampires." He leaned forward, coming closer. Suddenly she froze, and fear returned. She quickly slid off the stone block before he touched her.

"I have to go. You didn't happen to find my red mask, did you? I lost it when I ran away from you." She felt a little ashamed admitting that.

"I know. I saw it - and I took it with me."

"Then you still have it?" Relief flooded Latona. She would be able to return the mask to her uncle. "Please give it to me!"

"I don't have it with me."

"That's okay," she said eagerly. "I'll come with you, then you can give it to me, or you tell me where you live, and I'll pick it up tomorrow afternoon."

Malcolm shook his head. "No, it's not that simple. I have another idea. You come back here tomorrow night at this time, and then I'll give it to you."

Latona backed away a bit. "What are you thinking? I can't go out every night."

"Then come whenever you can. I'll find you. And think about what you want to give me as a reward!"

"What?" The warning voice in her head grew louder.

He stood up and was now much too close to her. He raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek. Latona didn't know if it was ice or fire that ran through her body. She couldn't help but look into his eyes. It was as if the world around her was fading into mist, leaving only the two of them alone.

"A kiss?" she offered, although she hadn't meant to say that.

Malcolm smiled. "Yes, that's a good offer. I accept it. Your mask for a kiss." His fingertips trembled on her skin as they slid down to her neck. Then he hastily withdrew his hand and took two steps back from her. He seemed to be struggling to control his breath, but his voice sounded as usual as he bid her farewell.

"So we'll see each other soon, Latona. I'm looking forward to it and can hardly wait for the hour." He bowed deeply, and then he was gone, as if the ground had suddenly opened up and swallowed him. Confused, the girl staggered home.

The next evening, Professor Ruguccio awaited the young vampires as they streamed into the classroom. As always, he wore an expensive evening suit and patent leather shoes that squeaked a little with every step. He smoothed back his short gray hair.

"Welcome," he greeted them with his booming voice. "You don't need to take a seat. We're going on a little excursion."

Excited whispers flew from mouth to mouth. After the night in the catacombs, this promised to be another exciting lesson. Only Ireen and Raymond looked at each other anxiously. The English girl pressed herself close to Malcolm, and Raymond looked like he would have liked to do the same, but he at least tried to put on a composed expression. Rowena, on the other hand, seemed to be lost in her thoughts again. She hummed to herself and absentmindedly stroked Maurizio's cat.

"Where are we going today?" Tammo blurted out.

"To a church! To Santa Francesca Romana, not far from here. Do you have your amulets? You'll need them."

Luciano felt for the band around his neck and saw Alisa also pulling out her amulet, the red stone gleaming in the light of the candles.

"And now come." They followed the professor. As expected, some of the shadows came along to keep an eye on their charges. However, they kept some distance and stayed among themselves.

Since the way wasn't far this time, Professor Ruguccio didn't bother to divide them into groups. But he ordered silence as they walked down the hill past the Colosseum and then approached the church from its rear. First, they saw a few white columns and the niche where a Roman goddess had once sat.

"The Domus Aurea extended to here in Nero's time," the professor explained. "Emperor Hadrian used Nero's vestibule to build the temple."

He didn't give the students time to look around and instead waved them further. On the left, the Arch of Titus shone in the starlight, and behind it rose the Palatine Hill with its ruins. On the other side now stood the baroque church of Santa Francesca Romana with its Romanesque bell tower. Professor Ruguccio opened a side door and let the students and their shadows enter. "Stay away from the holy water and the tabernacle with the consecrated hosts."

Luciano felt the familiar pulling sensation in his head and the nausea that would increase from minute to minute. He glanced at Alisa with relief, noticing that she too nervously clutched the red stone. The discomfort was evident in all the students, except perhaps Chiara and Maurizio, and maybe Rowena. Tammo's gaze darted around restlessly. Raymond and Ireen clung to Malcolm. Even the Dracas couldn't maintain their mask of arrogance and looked around in panic.

Luciano felt alternately hot and cold. His back hit a stone edge. When he turned around, he recognized with horror the holy water basin. He quickly stepped aside and immediately felt a little better.

What a failure he was! He was a Nosferas and should be leading the others here with a smile, showing them the pictures and figures. Instead, he writhed like a worm and would have liked to cling to the English like the others. Pathetic! But he had always been like that. Even as a little girl, Chiara was braver than he was. Every night she had played with Maurizio and her shadows in the ruins or sneaked into churches to come up with some daredevil challenge. Mostly to challenge Luciano and to amuse herself deliciously when he backed off or ran out again, whimpering in pain. Anyway, Chiara seemed quite relaxed and looked rather bored. She waved Leonarda over and began to whisper to her shadow.

Were his powers less developed than those of the other Nosferas, or was he simply lacking in courage? He glanced over at Alisa and Ivy, who were trying hard and didn't step back, although the whole atmosphere tortured them.

"Professor, a question, Signora Enrica said the old catacombs had the strongest effect. But it seems to me, well, as if it's not easier here. How come?" Alisa wanted to know, swallowing dryly.

"Well, there are several reasons. This church is also very old and has witnessed people and times of strong belief. Its aura is still very present in this building. But it's mainly because you're not used to it. With a little practice, you'll deal with these powers more easily than with the old martyrs! Soon you'll feel progress. We Nosferas had generations to let habit and desensitization take hold and strengthen our own powers. Just as the people in their zeal of faith here in the center of the Catholic Church slackened, so did their power over us. See!" He approached the holy water basin and dipped his hand in it. "It's cold, as we say. There's no true blessing in it anymore."

He withdrew his hand from the water and shook it, causing the droplets to fly. The vampires panicked and backed away. Only Luciano stood there with clenched teeth. He wouldn't hide anymore and flinch from every pain. He would show the others what it meant to be a Nosferas!

The drops fell onto the stone slabs before Luciano. Except for one. It hissed and steamed as the holy water touched his hand. Some of the young vampires screamed. Alisa reached for his hand and wiped the drop off with her sleeve. Luciano stared at the red spot on the back of his hand. "Thank you," he said slowly.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Ivy inquired. He looked into her turquoise sparkling eyes and shook his head. "No." And strangely, that was true. It should have burned like hell. He glanced at Professor Ruguccio, who nodded at him.

"Yes, good. It depends on concentration. You must be focused and confront the powers of the church decisively. If fear prevails in you, then you're lost and can only flee."

Chiara stepped up to Luciano and nudged her cousin in the side with her elbow. "The heroic Luciano, isn't that funny. So apparently our toughening methods have borne fruit after all. How delightful!"

The young vampire grimaced. "Apparently! What a little anger can do."

Chiara looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, anger is a powerful weapon. It's worth training."

The professor now formed groups that would explore the church on their own and once again feel which were the powerful objects. Naturally, Luciano went with Alisa and Ivy. To his surprise, Franz Leopold joined them. He was very silent and kept a little in the background. They cautiously approached various sculptures, reliefs, and paintings and noticed how differently their aura affected them. The crucifix emitted such power that only Maurizio managed to get close, but even he didn't stay for long. Professor Ruguccio, on the other hand, could touch it without visible discomfort.

"He's not even wearing an amulet," Alisa whispered to Luciano.

He nodded. "Yes, the most powerful in the family do without it. They manage to strengthen their powers from the surroundings, to preserve them, and to concentrate them for their defense."

Alisa clutched her red stone. "I think I'll keep this good piece for a while longer." She groaned and tried for the third time to touch an inconspicuous stone figure, but recoiled again. "That would burn my palm," she prophesied, making way for Ivy. Her slender hand also trembled. She closed her eyes, furrowed her brow, and then took tiny steps closer until her palm brushed the stone. It crackled. Sparks jumped across the surface, but Ivy remained unmoving.

"Good! That's really very good!" praised the professor, who walked from group to group. "Now you, Luciano."

"Yes, let's see something!" Franz Leopold urged.

It was clear to Luciano that he wasn't hoping for success. But that's exactly what spurred him on. And the gaze of the two girls behind him! He was no longer a little child. He had grown and gained strength and courage! He felt his knees weaken. Well, at least in strength.

"You can do it," he heard Ivy's voice amidst the buzzing in his head. Luciano lifted his chin. All right then. And if he had to burn his entire hand. He wouldn't stand there like a weakling anymore! Unpleasant scenes from his childhood flashed through his mind. He pushed them away and focused his thoughts entirely on the stone and his own protection. Suddenly, he felt the rough surface. It was cool. No pain shot through his body. No fire consumed him. Beaming, he turned around, but the professor had already moved on and was attending to Raymond, who was writhing on the ground. Tammo didn't look happy either and had stuck two blackened fingers into his mouth. But much more important than praise from the professor was the approving nod from Alisa and Ivy's smile.

"It's your turn," he told Franz Leopold. He reveled in the barely suppressed nervousness that the other exuded. His temple twitched, and he could hardly keep his fingers steady.

"Well, nervous? You should be. It can go very badly if you don't do it right!"

Franz Leopold ignored him, clutching his amulet with one hand and reaching out the other arm far ahead. However, he couldn't manage to approach more than three steps. He snorted angrily and gritted his teeth, but it was no use.

"Come on, let's take the figure over there," Luciano suggested.

"That's a Madonna!" Franz Leopold gasped.

"Yes, so what?" Luciano smirked, though he pretended to be braver than he felt. This was going to be much harder.

To their surprise, the figure had hardly any aura. They turned to two silver chalices. Franz Leopold blinked and ran two fingers under his collar to loosen it a bit. It delighted Luciano mischievously that the atmosphere of the church weighed much more heavily on the vampire from Vienna than on himself, and he couldn't resist a few taunts.

Until Franz Leopold grabbed him by the shirt. "Stop playing the big mouth. I warn you! I clearly read your childish fears when we were in the vestibule and also in front of the figure earlier. Shall I tell the others a bit about your past heroic deeds? Like how you ran away whimpering and with trembling knees, hiding under Zita's skirt so Maurizio and Chiara wouldn't find you? I can go into a little more detail if you'd like!"

Luciano broke free. "No need!"

Franz Leopold cast a quick glance at Ivy and grinned maliciously. "Or would you prefer I talk about the fantasies in your head regarding a - admittedly pretty - Irish girl who's present here?"

"Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself!" Luciano shouted angrily. Of course, Alisa, Ivy, and even Seymour looked over at them, attentively following every word.

Luciano growled dangerously, but the Viennese vampire only laughed scornfully. "They're your dirty thoughts, not mine."

Luciano felt waves of heat surging through his body. A red veil obscured his vision. He would attack him and tear his throat apart, claw his nails into his neck, and scratch his beautiful, conceited face!

A hand rested on his shoulder. Cool and soothing. He looked down at the white, slender fingers with clean nails. "You don't need to continue, Franz Leopold. I know Luciano's thoughts, and I don't find them dirty!"

That was perhaps even worse than anything Franz Leopold could have said. Then Luciano would at least have the excuse that all of this was just his malicious imagination! Now, however, he would have preferred to sink into the stone floor of the church.

"Oh, so that's how it is. Your secret admirer finds favor in your eyes. Then you surely want to bestow a sign of your favor upon him!"

Before either of them could guess what Franz Leopold might be up to, he had produced a small knife and cut off one of Ivy's silver strands of hair. The hair curled in his hand into a lock. He bowed mockingly to Luciano. "Here, the token of your beloved. Take good care of it and always carry it close to your heart."

Luciano stared so bewildered at the silver lock that he didn't even notice Ivy's expression change. He had never seen her anything but calmly friendly, her features relaxed, her eyes sparkling, a gentle smile on her lips. But now naked panic stood in her gaze. Her face contorted into a silent scream. She covered her mouth with her hands. Seymour growled and snapped at Franz Leopold, who quickly dropped the lock into Luciano's hand. He and Alisa also stared at Ivy in astonishment. No one had expected this reaction.

"Ivy, what's wrong with you? Come on, calm down. He was just teasing you. It'll grow back, you know." Alisa wanted to put her arm around her shoulder, but Ivy recoiled from her and flailed her arms. She shook her head, her hair whipping through the air. "No!" she screamed. "Oh no!"

"Ivy, did he hurt you? Come on, tell me! What's wrong with you?"

But she didn't answer. She turned around and ran through the nave, Seymour barking, then darted to the door and pushed it open. Ivy and the wolf disappeared into the night. The three of them watched her with open mouths. What had gotten into her?

The professor wanted to know that too, hurrying out of the choir with squeaky shoes. The other students also looked curiously at them.

"What's going on here?" Ruguccio surveyed them with his black eyes, tilting his head to accentuate his double chin.

"We're not quite sure," Luciano said cautiously, hiding the lock of hair in his pocket.

"She just lost control," Alisa added.

"I'll go look for her," Mervyn offered.

The professor shook his head. "No, you all stay here and finish your exercises." Instead, he sent the two shadows, Francesco and Hindrik, after the girl. They were to ensure she reached the Domus Aurea safely. Everything else could be dealt with later.

Signor Ruguccio waved the students over, putting an end to the whispering about Ivy's inexplicable behavior. "Come here, all of you. I want to show you something. Take a close look at that tile over there. Can you see the indentations? They are supposed to be the knee prints of Peter and Paul. The legend goes that Simon the Sorcerer tried to prove his superiority to the two apostles by levitating. Peter and Paul then knelt on this tile and prayed to God for a sign. He gave it by causing Simon to fall from the sky. - So much for the amusing saints' stories of humans." Some of the students laughed, while others eyed the seemingly harmless tile suspiciously.

"Now, I'd like a volunteer to step forward and examine this holy piece more closely - and tell us how great its power is." The vampires' gazes wandered everywhere but towards the professor. Finally, Maurizio stepped forward. "I'll do it. Nobody else can bear this misery." But Ruguccio extended his palm towards him. "Thank you, but I'd prefer someone who hasn't played here countless times in the past few years." Luciano felt himself relax. Well, he was out of the game then. Maurizio shrugged, looking almost disappointed.

Signor Ruguccio's small, dark eyes moved on. "How about Rowena tries then?" Malcolm stepped to her side, as if to protect the little girl, but remained silent. Luciano heard her humming softly. "Rowena?" "Oh, yes, what is it?" She wrinkled her freckled nose. "You want me to examine the knee prints? But of course, Professor." Rowena confidently approached the tile, still humming to herself. The others held their breath. Something had to happen. She had to slow down, hesitate, her face contorting with pain. But none of that was visible. Rowena approached the plate, knelt down, and ran her fingers over the indentations. She looked up at Professor Ruguccio questioningly. "And now, Signor?"

"You tell me."

"Nothing, I feel nothing. Just an old, uneven tile."

"And what do you conclude from that?"

Rowena stood up, shaking out her simple tweed skirt. "Those weren't the apostles - or they weren't holy men!" She snorted contemptuously and rejoined Malcolm, who looked relieved.

"They were indeed holy men, as other relics, paintings, and statues show, but Rowena is right about the first point: the apostles didn't kneel on this tile. The prints don't belong to them!"

Shortly afterward, the professor concluded the lesson for the night and instead led his students through the dark ruins of the Forum Romanum. The plain, once the heart of political Rome, was now just a wasteland overgrown with weeds, with individual column fragments and weathered figures protruding. Even the great Arch of Titus was covered in bushes. During the day, cows and goats grazed on the plain, but at night, they were gathered into small pens. The animals huddled together nervously as the vampires silently passed by their enclosures. The professor showed them the remains of the Maxentius Basilica, which must have been an impressive structure.

"I'm hungry again," Maurizio sighed, stopping at a small shelter with a few goats.

"No! Come on now," Luciano hissed, pulling his cousin along, though inwardly he had to agree with him. He wouldn't have minded a drink of blood either. Luciano suppressed a sigh. The Nosferas simply enjoyed indulgence more than the others. And unfortunately, it showed.

A kind of envy rose within him as he observed the slender bodies in front of him, their movements so full of grace. He would never become like that. Sadness welled up within him. He hadn't known such thoughts and feelings until - the others appeared here. And now, suddenly, he wanted to be beautiful, elegant, and - desirable?

He felt the gaze on his face. Too late!

"Chubby, you can't be serious, can you?" Franz Leopold put on his wicked grin. "You don't seriously think such a creature would spare a thought for you? Well, maybe she could use a shadow to carry her bag. But from the way it feels, it seems you'd be content just to be in her presence, even if it means being an outcast."

"Maybe she doesn't care much about me," Luciano retorted. "But she finds you utterly repulsive, even though you may be beautiful, and she will never have anything for you other than contempt!"

Franz Leopold raised his well-groomed eyebrows slightly. "Are you so sure about that? I've read differently in her thoughts."

Throughout the journey home, Luciano felt empty and miserable, and it wasn't because the thirst for blood tormented him. Yes, he had completely forgotten about hunger. He reached for the lock of hair in his pocket, and his heart grew even heavier.

As soon as they reached the Domus Aurea, Alisa hurried to her sleeping chamber. Relief washed over her when she saw Ivy sitting on the edge of her sarcophagus, Seymour at her feet.

"I'm glad nothing happened to you," she said, sitting down beside the Irish vampire girl. Ivy hid her face in her hands, her silver hair falling over her face. The short strand that now only reached her chin was clearly visible.

"Oh Ivy, what has upset you so much? I don't understand. Franz Leopold is just a jerk. And Luciano will get over the insult. Let's just forget about the whole thing."

Slowly, Ivy lowered her hands. There was so much despair in her eyes that Alisa was startled. She put her arm around her shoulder. "Your hair is still beautiful, and the strand will grow back!"

"I don't doubt that!" Ivy said bitterly. Seymour jumped up and barked wildly. His fur on the back of his neck stood on end, and he bared his teeth. Ivy stood up, placed her hand between his ears, and spoke a few sentences in Gaelic. "You're right," she said then. "Let's forget the whole thing."

When she turned back to Alisa, her expression was back to normal. Cheerful and relaxed, as if nothing in the world could disturb her. Alisa blinked, wondering if her senses had deceived her. How was it possible for her to change so suddenly from one moment to the next?

"Come on, let's go. Do you have an exciting book for me? I've already finished Around the World in Eighty Days and crave more. It was wonderful!" Ivy linked her arm with Alisa's.

"What, you're already done? We barely had any time. You must read like lightning."

Ivy waved it off. "Oh no, I couldn't sleep." Seymour whined.

"That must be a joke," Alisa laughed. "Don't tell me you don't fall into a death-like trance like everyone else at sunrise, which lasts until dusk."

"Busted," Ivy said lightly. "I secretly read during class."

"You? No, I wouldn't have thought that of you!" Alisa raised her index finger in mock indignation. "You were lucky Franz Leopold didn't rat you out."

"Oh, he's not as bad as he seems," Ivy defended. "He just doesn't know it yet!"

"Are you sure?" Alisa looked at her doubtfully.

"Yes, he just hasn't realized it yet!"