by M. D. Grimm
I turned back to the swords and shook my head. I had nothing but the deepest respect for swordsmiths of centuries past. And current ones steeped in tradition.
“Wow.”
Cassius stepped closer, putting the table between us. “I give these to you.”
I snapped my eyes up. “Come again?”
Before he could say anything more, someone knocked on his door. His nostrils flared, and he narrowed his eyes.
“It’s one of the coven. Please carry those to my bedroom and shut the door.”
I didn’t question his order. I grabbed the swords and did as he said. But curiosity had me pushing my ear to the door. I only heard muffled sounds, their voices too low for me to hear. Bummer. I admired the swords and shook my head again. He wanted to give these to me? Me? They were tactile evidence of the battles he’d fought and shed blood in, swords given to him by samurais and emperors and shoguns and…. All mine?
I held them tighter. All mine. To my horror, my eyes started to burn. First the custom-made leather jacket—which I currently wore—now this? Not to mention the other artifacts from his past. He treated me way too well. I didn’t deserve it.
The coven vampire didn’t visit for long. Footsteps announced Cassius’s approach, and I stepped away from the door. He opened it, his expression blank, yet I felt tension coming from him.
“Anything I should know?” I asked, watching his face.
He seemed to debate with himself. He gestured for me to follow him, and I did, returning to the living area. I set the swords down on the table, my fingers itching to stroke the hilts and unsheathe them.
“It would seem an old-world slayer has entered the States. One with an impressive reputation.”
I cringed. “Dammit.”
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“Santiago Sanchez.” He watched me. “He is known to me. He tried to kill me about a decade ago in Rome. Only then, he went by Mateo Lopez.”
“And he’s still alive?”
He winged an eyebrow. “He certainly didn’t leave unscathed, I promise you. I have encountered many slayers in my years since I am considered big game, a worthy prize for the discerning slayer.” Derision dripped from his words. “When he comes after me again, I will make sure he doesn’t walk away.”
“You better,” I said fiercely.
His brows shot up, and a warm smile curved his lips. “It is nice to know you want me around a little longer.”
“A whole lot longer,” I said before I could stop myself. Shit.
His smile deepened. “I’m glad to know it.”
My gut tightened at the thought of losing Cassius to a slayer. “Wait, you said when he comes for you.” I narrowed my eyes. “He followed you here, didn’t he?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why?”
He wanted to brush it off. I could see it. He hissed out a breath between his teeth and turned to glare out one of the large windows. The sky was dark and cloudy, the lights from the city shining as bright as day. I clearly saw his reflection on the glass.
“The Spanish Inquisition,” he said. “I killed dozens of inquisitors after their investigations turned up evidence of the paranormal. I’d been wondering if I should interfere in human politics when I heard what they were doing. Their families took issue with the slaughter of their own and swore oaths to kill me.”
I gaped. “Dude.”
“Most of the families died out. A few lines still survive through one or two members. This slayer, however, is quite the foe. He takes his work very seriously.”
“What will you do?”
“Her Grace is tracking his movements. I suspect she’ll want me to be used as bait to get him where we want him.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “How can you be so calm about this?”
He turned around to face me, his face blank. “He isn’t the first to want my head and won’t be the last. I’m a soldier, Vulcan. Above and beyond anything, I am a soldier. I will stand and I will fight.”
He nodded to the swords, his expression softening. “As I was saying before the interruption, I want you to have these. I know you will appreciate them as much as I do. They have been collecting dust too long.”
The change in subject threw me for a moment, and my anger and worry got buried under anxiety. Oh boy, would I! But I shook my head despite the pain in my heart. “I can’t accept.”
He huffed. “Don’t be foolish. Take them. I know your fondness for swords.”
“I can’t.”
He scowled. “Why not?”
“I just… can’t. They mean too much. There’s too much attached to them.”
His expression turned fierce before he turned away. My heart pounded in my ears and sweat dampened my palms. I struggled to level out my breathing.
“Have I not been obvious?” he asked in a low voice.
“What?”
He looked at me over his shoulder, his eyes glowing slightly, the preternatural luminescence beautiful and terrifying.
“I need you, Vulcan. I need you with me. I can’t keep silent any longer.”
My breath hitched, and I shook my head.
His mouth thinned as he turned fully toward me. “You are not blind. You know I have affection for you, that I have been courting you since we met. You know I care and that I have done everything in my power to make sure you know you can trust me. You are safe with me, and I will protect you. I will stand by you, if only you would stand by me.”
“I can’t….” Words failed me.
“Can’t what?”
I shook my head again and pressed my hand to it. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand what you’re saying to me. I don’t get it. What do you want from me, Cas? I can’t give you anything. I don’t have anything.”
“You have yourself. That’s all I want.”
“Why?”
“You help me keep my mind.”
I was so confused. I could only lift my hands, showing my chaotic mind.
He clenched his jaw. “I desire you. I desire your body, your blood, and your presence. I enjoy your laugh, your teasing, and your enthusiasm for all things ancient. I want you with me always. I only know joy when I am with you. You are my weakness and my strength. Is that clear enough for you?”
My legs turned to liquid, and I collapsed on the sofa. I gaped at him, wondering if I was dreaming. Or in an alternate universe.
“I’m a rat,” I whispered.
Cassius tilted his head and stepped closer. “What did you say?”
I dared much and stared right into his eyes. “I’m a rat.”
He frowned. “Why would you say such a thing about yourself?”
I lowered my gaze, eyes burning. “I need time. Can I have time? Please?”
He must have seen the shock and emotion whirling through me, because he stayed where he was.
“Of course. I don’t wish to force anything upon you. My words are the truth, Vulcan. I adore you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Stop. I need to leave. I need to go home.” My voice cracked, and I pressed my lips together.
“I will drive you home. I will say no more.”
His infinite kindness nearly undid me. I stood on shaky legs and made my way to the door, not once looking at the swords. Or Cassius.
Chapter Twelve
I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, listening to some New Age flutey music. I couldn’t wrap my mind around Cassius’s words. They were truth, he said. God help me, I believed him. Now what? Could I handle a relationship with him? What would that mean for my business and reputation? I didn’t care if it was selfish to think such things since all I had was my reputation. My job was my life. I needed it to survive.
“You help me keep my mind,” he’d said.
What did that mean? Despite what Dain taught me about vampires, there were still a lot of things I didn’t know about them. Maybe when they grew older, they developed a form of dementia or Alz
heimer’s. That was a terrifying thought. All that power and need for blood in a deteriorating mind? I shuddered.
I rolled over on my stomach and propped my chin on my folded arms. I was flattered by Cassius’s words. Flattered and hopeful.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I loved him.
I knew I loved him; I just couldn’t admit it before. Now I had to recognize it and decide what to do about it.
Not yet, though. I had a job to do. I had to assemble and test several Hellraiser boxes, now that I had a handle on the project. I pushed to my feet and shut off the music before walking into the shop. I shut the door before tying on my leather vest. I flipped on death metal, then turned on the saw and got to work cutting wood into precise pieces.
Hours passed as I fell into the zone. Pushing my energy and focus into the work helped. By the time I surfaced and set seven boxes aside, I was no closer to an answer about Cassius, but I didn’t feel so lost and confused anymore. My emotions were steadier, calmer. I needed to talk to him again.
A glance at the clock told me it was midmorning.
Tonight, then. We had to talk.
I roared up to La Rose. After parking my bike, I approached the front doors.
“Vulcan.”
I turned. Her Grace sat in a limo right outside the club. The door was open, and she gestured to me. I obediently walked over and crawled inside, sitting across from her. Her driver shut the door, muffling sounds from outside.
She swiftly assessed me, and her shoulders relaxed. “You look well. I know Victoria told me as much, but I had to see for myself. I am so glad.”
“Not as glad as me.”
“Or Cassius, I assume.”
I turned away and shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Vulcan, look at me. You need to look at me.”
I took a breath and did. I focused at her petite nose. She sat straight, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands folded in her lap, every bit the regal noblewoman. Her face was serene, but her eyes betrayed her troubled mind.
“I need to tell you something. Mortals shouldn’t know it, and I am neither sanctioned nor encouraged to tell you. Yet I will because you must know. For all our sakes.”
I frowned.
“There is a reason you have only met vampires a few centuries old. Once vampires reach a certain age, their minds start to deteriorate.”
My eyes widened, and I leaned forward. She just confirmed my suspicions.
“They go mad,” she said softly. “Feral. They become nothing but beasts on the hunt without compassion or a sense of self. They become like ghouls, but worse. Far, far worse.”
My mouth dried.
“They must be killed,” she continued. “We hunt them down and kill them, unless a slayer gets to them first.”
I grew cold and rubbed my arms when they erupted in goose bumps.
“You asked me once,” she said, “where slayers originated from, and why they are so hell-bent on our annihilation when we’ve assimilated into human society.”
“Yeah, and you said not all vampires have assimilated and still hunt humans as their ancestors did. Usually in more remote areas of the globe.”
She nodded. “That was only half of the truth. Thousands of years ago, when the first vampires began to turn feral, the human population had grown exponentially. It was impossible to keep such things hidden. My ancestors had no idea that turning feral was a possibility and had no way of stopping it. Thus the first slayers arose, the strongest and most courageous among the humans. They were needed at that time since arrogance among the vampire courts prevented them from seeing what was right before their eyes. Slayers assumed that all vampires were like the ferals and so they hunted all of them, regardless of their state of mind.”
“Slayers have to know by now that not all vampires are mindless killing machines,” I said.
She shrugged. “They care not. If we aren’t killed, we turn feral. They wish to prevent that. Such incidences are rare now since we’ve applied our own methods to curtail the slaughter, but tradition dies hard and many slayers see their mission as holy.”
“Nothing so frightening than a man who thinks he’s on a mission from God.”
Her lips twitched. “Precisely. The same reasoning can be applied to werewolves. Their ancestors had less control over their shifting and would often reveal themselves when angry or scared. Now they teach their offspring from an early age how to control their emotions.”
“And ghouls?”
Her face revealed her disgust. “They are the true mindless beasts, and I would not shed a tear if slayers wiped them from the world. For what they did to you, they deserve far worse.”
A flash of fury sparked in her eyes and rippled across her face for an instant, and then she smoothed it back to neutrality.
I cleared my throat. “What did you mean by applying your own methods? Are there symptoms or something when vampires are turning feral?”
“Yes, and we watch for them carefully. Any lone vampire is closely monitored. Isolated vampires are the most at risk, and they deteriorate faster. They grow irritable and withdrawn. Their personalities change and their tempers are easily ignited. They become aggressive and violent over the simplest problem or offense. They become pure, hungry instinct with no reason or logic.”
I swallowed hard.
“There are only a couple of ways to slow the process but no way to prevent it. If a slayer or another vampire doesn’t kill us, simple time will. If a feral is left to himself, he will simply keel over one night or forget to hide from the sun one morning.”
“But Cassius…” I whispered.
She nodded. “Yes. He is a wonder. Unique. I have known of no other vampire who has kept his mind as long as Cassius has. Perhaps it was the way he traveled and experienced life and all it has to offer. He never let himself be crushed under the weight of what he’s seen and done. He also managed to hibernate when the need arose, sometimes for a hundred years at a time. Very few of us can resist the song of the night.” She paused. “But he was turning feral, my friend. In Italy, all alone. I could see it. There were moments he’d lash out, then appear confused. It was tragic to see such a bright mind fade. It was for that reason that I brought him with me, hoping to preserve him a little longer. Hoping to gain all he can teach, all his knowledge before he expired. Then a remarkable thing happened. You.”
“Me?”
She smiled. “Yes, you. I have never seen him so alive and communicative. He’s flourishing. He doesn’t have strange mood swings or violent outbursts anymore. Well, as long as you speak to him regularly. Those few times you cut off communication is when he seems to descend into himself. You slow the change. Somehow your connection with him slows the change.”
I rubbed my mouth, astonished. “You said there were a couple of ways to slow the deterioration process. What are they?”
How much would she tell me?
She regarded me for a moment. “One way is to create another vampire. To reproduce, if you will. Another is to drink vampire blood, not human. I honestly don’t know why, but to live off a young vampire’s blood slows the process the most. Both things, however, must be sanctioned by the council, and as for vampire blood sharing, that is an intimate exchange only meant for the closest of mates.”
Her intense stare made me itchy, and I peered down at my boots.
“I know only of a very few who manage this, and none of them personally. They keep a low profile. Very few vampires are willing to be fed upon. It goes against our very core to act as prey. And not all humans survive the change if one agrees to such a deal. It isn’t a decision lightly made or commonplace.”
“So you’re saying I should stay with Cassius because I keep him from going crazy.”
Hardly romantic.
“Do you not care for him?”
I exhaled slowly. I couldn’t lie to her. “You know I do. After Dain I swore I would never care about anyone ever again. Couldn’t keep the promise to myself. I do care. I wish
I didn’t.”
“Then care for him. He will care for you as well. That I know for certain.”
“He’s told me as much.”
“Then why do you resist?”
I shook my head. “How long? How long does such a partnership hold off the change?”
“I don’t know. As I said, not many have managed to do it and those who have keep to themselves. Perhaps centuries. I suppose it depends on their age to begin with.”
“And Cas is already old.”
“But very much alive.”
I rubbed my eyes, overwhelmed. The minutes ticked by.
“Go to him.” Her voice turned firm and commanding. “Go to him now. Or go home. None of us have time for your indecisive mortal nature.”
I snapped my head up and blinked. Her gaze was fierce and impatient.
“Fear is the worse emotion a mortal or immortal can have. If you let it rule you, you are a coward. I do not associate with cowards.”
I straightened and glared. “Don’t threaten me, Your Grace. You won’t like the outcome.”
Her smile was sharp as cut glass. “There you are.” She knocked on the door, and it opened. Then she pointed one delicate finger. “Go.”
I climbed out of the limo and stalked to the front doors. I snaked through the crowd and ignored the insults and glares from those in line as the bouncers let me in. I turned to the bar. Then his voice hit me like a ton of bricks.
He was singing.
I adjusted my course to the dancefloor, and there he was on stage, owning it, flaunting it. I stood rooted as his voice washed over me. I wanted to save him. I didn’t want him to go feral and die. That he’d survived this long was a miracle. I wanted him to survive for many more centuries.
He made me happy. He made me feel worthy. He was a good man. I could do a lot worse than him.
The song ended. I stood silently. He darted his gaze over the crowd, and despite the frantic lights, fog, and mass of bodies, I knew it when he saw me. I expected him to come to me but he didn’t. Instead, he held my gaze and tilted his head to his bandmates. He said something and they glanced at each other, puzzled, but shrugged and began a new song. At first I didn’t really hear it, too caught up in his blue gaze. Then he lifted the mic to his mouth, and as he sung the first line, I jolted, recognizing it instantly.
