Masquara

...a courtesan

You will have heard of me... the most renowned whore in a city of whores... and you will have heard the stories...
Have you heard that I was born a gypsy... or a witch?... that I was a debauched nun?... or a common street doxy?... that I am a vampyre who drains the blood of virgins?... or that I drink semen from the stallions of the Royal Household Cavalry as a protective against the pox?...
There's a rumour that I sold my soul to the Devil in exchange for the sexual arts with which I enslave my lovers... from the lowest to the mightiest... men and women... men for profit, women for pleasure...
It is said that I have the ear of the Queen... and perhaps more than just her ear...
Is it true that I am never seen in daylight hours?... that I appear at dusk, my black gondola gliding silently out of the mists of the lagoon... and that at dawn I return to the necropolis island where I sleep with the dead?...
probably not...
All these things could be true... whether they are truth or myth is between me and my confessor... and considering that he is one of my lovers, I can probably rely upon his discretion...
It is true that they call me the Angel of Death... a disproportionate number of my patrons seem to meet an untimely end... especially the wealthy ones, shortly after having settled properties or large sums of money in my favour... in a city of corruption and intrigue there will always be opportunities for one prepared to do what it takes to earn the patronage of the rich and powerful in church, state and commerce... and one ruthless and clever enough to protect the wealth and influence she has sold her body to gain... those who get in my way rarely prosper... and the city if full of contagion... almost indistinguishable from the effects of certain poisons...
so they say...
I am a keeper of secrets... my own especially... and there is more to me than most will ever know... behind the mask...