Devil's Dream

by Shayne Silvers

  He turned to the next guest in line—a woman bedecked in so many furs that I first mistook her for a pregnant werewolf.

  I made my way over to Nosh, shaking my head. No one seemed to be hiding their powers.

  Nosh nodded studied me thoughtfully. “A drink to take the edge off? I know I’ve been poor company.”

  “As long as the drinks are still warm,” I murmured, glancing about the old mansion.

  “Freshly squeezed, from what I hear.”

  He was walking away before I could ask him what he meant.

  I followed him into a large living area that had been modified to serve as the auction floor, featuring rows of chairs facing the front of the room. Thankfully, the mansion had a wide, open entryway leading into an adjoining room. I saw a well-stocked bar against the far wall and tall tables evenly spaced throughout, allowing the guests to have some privacy or mingle, depending on their preference.

  My shoulders immediately tensed as I observed a pair of vampires. They noticed my attention and smiled at me before continuing their conversation. I nodded back, eager to get away from their immediate view. I let out a small sigh, glad to realize that muting my vampire aura was working appropriately. They hadn’t seemed to notice what I was—or maybe they just hadn’t cared.

  With my blood reserves so depleted, I had been grateful to see that it didn’t take much power to mask my aura—but it did take a lot of concentration.

  I hadn’t been sure what to expect tonight, but I found myself surprised to count more than forty guests, and that none of them were bothering to conceal their true natures. They huddled in small groups of two or three, forming pointless alliances for safety. Pointless, because I knew any of them would betray those heartfelt alliances the moment the claws came out. The nefarious twinkles of betrayal in their eyes were identical to those from my time. It was oddly reassuring to see that some things never changed.

  Deceit was a dependable, old friend.

  Nosh guided me towards the adjoining room and over to the bar. “Relax, Sorin. You look like I feel. We can’t both look like assholes hungry for a fight,” he said with a whisper of a smile.

  I grunted. “It’s always served me well in the past. Especially in these circles.” But I did let out a sigh, forcing my shoulders to relax. Beside the bar, a dozen naked men and women sat in leather chairs, staring docilely out at nothing. Nosh hesitated and I sighed in understanding. I walked up to the barkeep, scanned the selection, and pointed at a beautiful, red-haired woman with freckles on her delicate shoulders. “Just a glass, thank you.”

  The bartender nodded, picked up a bulbous wineglass, and walked over to her. He withdrew a scalpel from his apron and sliced her palm in a practiced, precise cut. She didn’t even flinch. Judging by her dilated eyes, I doubted that she even felt it. She squeezed her blood into the glass, filling it halfway before the bartender murmured to her and she unclenched her fist. She then wrapped some gauze over her wound without a word. He walked back over to me with a polite smile, his thick, curled mustache bobbing up and down as he extended the glass. “Sir,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

  I took the glass and inhaled through my nose, appreciating the faint spiciness. Nosh’s face was as hard as granite as he asked for a scotch on the rocks. Three fingers.

  Once we both had our drinks, we leaned back against the bar, surveying the room and making sure we were private.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to be a vampire?” I teased gently. “Your scotch is aged twelve years, and I’m betting my wine is aged thirty.”

  He grunted, shaking his head distastefully.

  Since he obviously didn’t want to talk, I surveyed the room and brought the glass to my lips. I took my first drink and shuddered as the blood hit my tongue in a wave of creamy spiciness. The blood coursed down my throat like a flame to oil and my fingers tingled faintly, savoring the food. Along with it, I sensed my strength blooming faintly and smiled to myself. Not all of it was going to repairing me, which was a great sign.

  Although I wanted to chug it down and then take all twelve of the naked women into a private room for a full meal, I lowered the glass from my lips. Control was essential. I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I realized Nosh was watching me discreetly, making sure I was alright.

  I nodded faintly. “I’m fine.”

  Nosh grunted, discreetly pointing out a pair of women just walking into the main room. They paused beside a pillar, speaking softly to one another. Each wore white scarves with a red, ornate crucifix emblazoned across the front. “I dare you to go shake their hands. Don’t underestimate the Sisters of Mercy. Monsters know them as Nuns of the Gun,” he murmured, chuckling.

  I eyed the women thoughtfully and then shrugged. Before Nosh could comment, I strode up to them and introduced myself. “Good evening. My friend over there was just commenting on how exquisite you two look. I’ve heard tales about the Sisters of Mercy, but I have never had the pleasure of meeting one before tonight. Thank you for holding the line,” I said, smiling. One had fiery red hair and was taller than any woman I had ever seen. Her green eyes were like fire, and she assessed me up and down with a coquettish smirk.

  Her associate had dark, inky hair that was tied up into a tight bun on the back of her head. “Is that so?” she said, sounding amused.

  I nodded, stepping to the side and holding out my hand to indicate Nosh. His cheeks darkened with embarrassment—no small feat on his complexion, and he waved back lamely. “He’s terribly shy, I’m afraid.”

  They studied him with mixed looks of surprise. “Is he a Shaman?”

  I smiled. “I think the proper term is Medicine Man, but yes.”

  The fiery haired woman studied me curiously. “And you work with him?” she asked doubtfully, unable to place my specific flavor of power—because I was still concealing my aura, preventing anyone from instantly recognizing that I was a vampire. Which was why I’d taken Nosh up on his dare. If I could coerce these Sisters of Mercy into a conversation without them calling me out for being a vampire, then the others in the room should take it as evidence that I was not a vampire and wouldn’t bother me.

  Or they would become doubly curious about what I might be since I wasn’t a vampire.

  Then again, it wasn’t a crime to be a vampire here, so I’d seen little risk in my little game. And the look on Nosh’s face made it all worth it. Also, contrary to what Nosh had assumed, I didn’t have adverse reactions to any religion, let alone Christianity. My vampire spawn did, but I never had.

  I had always assumed that my immunity was a result of me growing up on the streets as an orphan, never learning about gods or religion until I was well into adolescence. And by that age, I’d been too streetwise to believe that any gods were looking out for me. The only time I had considered seeking the help of the gods—years later when I consulted the Oracle of Delphi—they had ultimately cursed me, turning me into a vampire.

  So…I’d never been even remotely religious.

  My vampire spawn, on the other hand, had been raised fearing and respecting the Christian faith. Some kernel of belief must have resided deep within them that allowed the power of Christ to compel thee.

  “Would you mind if I borrowed one of your scarves to show to him?” I asked, smiling politely.

  They shared a long look with each other and finally nodded. The red-headed woman untied her scarf and handed it to me with an expectant smile. I accepted the scarf without bursting into flame, and I could practically feel Nosh’s eyes bug out of his head in shock. For that matter, the Sisters of Mercy looked equally stunned, their smiles fracturing in an instant.

  “How…” they gasped in unison, staring from the scarf to my drink.

  Damn. I’d been holding my glass of blood, so they’d instantly known I was a vampire. All that energy spent trying to conceal my aura and I may as well have been carrying around a sign that declared what I was.

  15

  I smiled reassuringly, hoping to appease their alar
m. “The priests skipped my village long before I became what I am.”

  They stared at me, still looking shaken to the core. “That’s…not possible,” the dark-haired woman said. “Even Dracula is affected by religious artifacts.”

  I nodded. “I know. Evolution, perhaps,” I said in a soft, calming tone. I stared at the drink in my hand, gathering my thoughts and debating how much I wanted to reveal since I was in a building full of both his likely allies and foes. And almost everyone had enhanced senses of hearing. “Dracula has brought more harm to this world than I ever thought possible,” I said, speaking in a low tone. “I despise the man more than anyone in this room.”

  They stared from me to each other, licking their lips. The red-haired woman regained her composure first. “You have given us much to think about.”

  I smiled, dipping my chin. “Would it be too much trouble to ask if you could further embarrass my friend? I find great pleasure in his torment,” I said, grinning mischievously.

  She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve never met a Shaman before.”

  I extended my wrist, palm down, dangling the scarf from my fingertips. She hesitated only a moment before resting her callused hand atop my forearm and walking with me towards Nosh, who looked to be on the verge of choking on his own tongue. “Might I ask your name?” I asked gently. “Mine is Sorin, but that is a dangerous name to know in this den of vipers,” I warned.

  She nodded, storing the information away for later analysis. “My name is Isabella.”

  “Charmed.” We strode up to Nosh and I smiled. “Sister Isabella, this is my good friend, Nosh Griffin.”

  Nosh bowed politely, attempting to hide his anxiety. “It is a pleasure,” he said, his gaze discreetly flicking to the scarf in my fingers. I gently withdrew my forearm and handed her back her scarf. “Thank you for entertaining me. I believe I will walk the room to get a better sense of what we might be up against.” I frowned at my choice of words. “I mean, to mingle with our host and his or her guests.”

  Isabella nodded with a light smile, her eyes latching onto Nosh like a bird of prey. She leaned closer to me and spoke under her breath. “Be careful, Sorin. I’ve seen representatives from every supernatural faction here. Witches, wizards, shifters, and vampires. Even the Nuns with Guns are in attendance,” she said with a wry grin, referring to herself.

  I nodded warily. “Den of vipers indeed. Be gentle with Nosh. He’s a gentle soul.”

  Nosh narrowed his eyes at me, grumbling under his breath, but Isabella’s dazzling smile soon made him forget all about me. More people had entered the building, but there were no more than fifty attendees altogether. I scanned the room, debating whether I should go strike up a conversation with any of the nefarious guests. I finished my drink and set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

  I strolled up to the bar, seeing a half-dozen people ordering drinks, and I decided it was the most natural way to meet strangers at an event such as this. Rather than ordering another fresh blood and inadvertently announcing my vampire nature, I ordered a red wine that I’d overheard another guest praising.

  I swirled the wine in my glass and then took a deep sniff, smiling contentedly.

  “You’re a tall glass of water,” a woman said from behind me.

  I smiled reflexively and turned to stare into the pale blue eyes of a woman so stunning that she momentarily left me speechless. I hadn’t seen her wandering the room, and she definitely hadn’t been at the bar moments ago. It took me a second to clear my head and formulate a response, which only seemed to increase her amusement as I watched her grin stretch wider. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that phrase,” I finally admitted with a warm smile.

  Her long brown hair was pulled back into a complicated weaving of individual braids—some thick and some thin—held in place by two silver sticks that formed an X on the back of her head. Her skin was pale and fair, and I noticed a faint, thin scar across her right cheek, making me instantly envision a hairline crack on an elegant marble statue I had once seen. Rather than diminish its beauty, the fracture had only served to highlight it.

  She was tall and lithe, but she had wide shoulders, indicating attention to physical fitness that was typically only found in warriors. She faced me openly with her shoulders squared, staring at my face without shame or fear, her pale blue eyes seeming to glow, and I felt a sharp resonance between us. It wasn’t magical in the literal sense but in the most meaningful sense—two individuals sensing an undefined kinship in the other.

  Like two pieces of stone fitting together so precisely that there was no space between.

  “My name is Victoria,” she said, flashing her teeth in a wide grin.

  I started, realizing I’d been staring at her without speaking. “Thank you,” I breathed.

  She cocked her head curiously. “For what?”

  “For showing me what it meant to feel truly speechless,” I admitted.

  Her cheeks bloomed with faint spots of color and her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. It’s the dress, isn’t it,” she said, glancing down. “I never wear them.”

  I blinked. “To be entirely honest, I didn’t know you were wearing one until just now,” I chuckled. She smiled even wider, revealing dimples big enough to stick my finger in.

  “Oh. Thank you, I think,” she said, sounding slightly flustered.

  I remembered that I hadn’t introduced myself. “My name is Sorin,” I said, confident that no one would know it. “I’m not usually this distracted,” I admitted, lowering my eyes. “I hope I didn’t offend.”

  She lifted my chin with two warm fingers, making my stomach drop. “You didn’t offend me, Sorin. I don’t think I’ve been complimented quite like that before. It was…nice,” she said, blinking long eyelashes. “Sorin is an interesting name. Greek?”

  I shrugged. “Bit of Greek, bit of Italian. Who knows how much of each. I’m a mongrel, in all honesty.”

  She laughed lightly, sipping a white wine she held in one hand. “Aren’t we all. You could do a blood test if you were really curious, but then you would have to find a company that would hide your…unique anomalies. And then hope they didn’t sell your information to some marketing firm.”

  She’d said unique anomalies, making me wonder if she’d sensed my aura and had already surmised that I was a vampire. I tried sensing hers, but I picked up no obvious signs of what she was, other than human. But what human would be brave enough to come into this place, knowing we were monsters?

  Having no idea what she was talking about regarding a blood test, but fully understanding her references to privacy, I nodded. “Too many answers can get a humble man into trouble.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little trouble now and then, is there?” she asked playfully.

  I was hyper aware of the blood that suddenly pumped to her lips as she said it, and I sensed that her pulse had ticked up ever so slightly when she met my eyes. I was very careful in my response. “Well, there is trouble, and there is trouble,” I said, enunciating the difference. “And I often get them confused, so I try to avoid them altogether.”

  She nodded, eyeing me sidelong. “I know you’re trying to hide what you are, but I can’t fathom why. Everyone is a monster, or monster hunter, here,” she said, shooting the women from the church a significant look. Isabella and her friend were both talking to Nosh now, having moved to a table as the bar’s business increased.

  I smiled. “I’m not familiar with the players in this game, and I’ve learned to hold my cards close to the chest when playing at a new table.”

  “And you still didn’t answer,” she added.

  “That is because we’re playing cards at the same table,” I said, smiling. I was actually enjoying this conversation. “If you want to show your cards first, I can show you mine.”

  She shrugged, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You truly don’t recognize me?” she finally asked.

  I noticed that Nosh was staring at me with a bewildered expression fro
m over her shoulder. He discreetly shook his head—a clear warning. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to warn me about though. I noticed all this with a mere flick of my eyes, using my peripheral vision so as not to alert her. “I’m a new settler to New York, if I’m being honest,” I said carefully. I scanned the room with a faint frown. “I wasn’t sure I liked it until a few moments ago,” I said, settling on her.

  “So clever,” she smiled, sipping at her drink. “Vampires vying for power, you mean? It happens everywhere. It’s like no one here has even heard of Dracula’s true tyranny.”

  I locked onto her more directly—enough so that she hesitated from taking another sip. “If I’m being entirely honest, I detest Dracula and pretty much everything I hear about him. Admittedly, I have precious few facts.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad to hear you dislike him as well, but I wouldn’t make that too public if I were you. Especially not if he waltzes through that door,” she said, licking her lips at the prospect.

  I glanced over my shoulder, licking my lips for entirely different reasons. “Is he to attend?” I asked, doing my best to conceal my interest and rage.

  She made a frustrated sound and I turned back. “I doubt it. He hardly ever leaves his precious castle. I’ve never seen him anyway. He hides where no one can reach him, sending his minions out like a plague to infect and invade in the subtlest of ways. It’s the only reason he has lived this long.”

  I shook my head, sneering. “Coward.”

  She smiled delightedly. “Agreed. I think I like you, Sorin. I’ll admit, I had you pegged as a vampire—”

  Nosh sidled up to the bar, coincidentally bumping into me. “We should probably find our seats,” he said. Then he glanced at Victoria with an embarrassed look. “My apologies, my lady. Is this rogue bothering you? He uses fancy suits like that to ensnare a woman’s sensibilities.”

  Victoria was staring directly into my eyes, unblinking. “I hadn’t noticed the suit,” she murmured. And then she flashed me a discreet wink.