Blood Roses

by J A Cummings

  The Headless Horseman waited until the incubus was out of earshot and said, “I believe I saw you dancing with that young vampire last night.”

  “You did.”

  “Do you know where he might be?”

  Rowena wasn’t certain if she should say, or if she could trust Heinrich. He’d been a perfect gentleman, though, and seemed to be so kind. She sighed. “I saw him on the beach. He was on the bench to greet the sun.”

  Heinrich gasped. “A vampire suicide? Here? Oh, that’s so terrible. So sad.”

  “Tragic, in fact.”

  “Unless… he didn’t die…”

  If he’d had a face, he would have been looking at her quizzically. She could feel the emotion from him anyway. “Well…” She shrugged. “I couldn’t let him burn.”

  Heinrich took her hand and bent over it again. “Hmm. I keep forgetting I’ve no lips when I’m around you. You make me wish I had them.”

  Rowena blushed. “Thank you, Heinrich.”

  He straightened and tugged his uniform tunic down. “Ahem. Well. The druids are down that side street and around to the north. You’ll no doubt be able to smell their shops before you reach them - such delightful perfume oils and incenses.” Wotan whickered, and Heinrich said, “Oh, yes. And there’s a beautiful apple tree near there that blooms and bears all year round. Druids. Extraordinary.”

  “Thank you, Heinrich.”

  Rowena spontaneously embraced him, and he hesitated before he embraced her back. “Uh… hmm. It’s been a long time, indeed, since anyone touched me… I…”

  She hugged him again. “You’re delightful, Heinrich. For as long as we’re both at the resort, you can have as many hugs as you want.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, Miss Rowena. If you only knew how happy that makes me…” He clicked his heels together. “Until another time, dear lady.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Wotan followed him as he walked away, and Grendel watched them go. “You’ve made him fall in love with you, you awful wench.”

  “What?! I’ve done no such thing.”

  “Treating him like just a normal soldier, as if he had a chance with you… it’s going to go to his head, wherever he keeps it.” The grimalkin began to stroll toward the druid area.

  “For your information, he does have a chance,” Rowena defended. “I think he’s sweet.”

  “Sweet on you.”

  “Sweet in general.”

  “As sweet as your vampire?”

  She paused. “He’s…”

  “Handsome. In peril. In need of your loving and nurturing caress,” Grendel mocked.

  “Stop it! So someone needs help. What’s wrong with me giving it?”

  “You’re not Glenda the Good.”

  She lifted her chin. “Maybe not, but she’s an example I aspire to match.”

  Grendel swished his tail. “Nobody takes Glinda seriously.”

  “Maybe not, but nobody drops houses on her, either.”

  “All right, fine. Good point.”

  They found Honey in the druid grove, and she greeted them both with embraces, which Rowena welcomed and Grendel avoided. “Welcome!” she enthused. “I’m so glad you’ve found our little corner of the island.”

  “Thank you!”

  She looked around at the comfortable and sunny spot beneath a massive oak wreathed with mistletoe. Yew trees, bushes heavy with mulberries, and dozens of bright flowers crowded close, reaching toward the druid as if they had lives and minds of their own. In this place, that was entirely possible. Grendel bumped her with his shoulder, putting her back on task.

  “Ooh… right. I’m doing some potion brewing…”

  “Like you said you might,” Honey smiled. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “Not quite. I need dragon’s teeth and blood roses. I was hoping maybe you’d have them…”

  Honey tapped her lips with her finger. “I know we’ve got the dragon’s teeth, but the blood roses… Oisin!”

  A tiny wizened figure with skin as black as coal emerged from one of the shops. “My dearest?”

  “Rowena, this is Oisin, my fiance.”

  “Oh! How happy to meet you.” Rowena stepped forward and shook hands with the little fae creature. He shapeshifted into a tall white rabbit and stood at Honey’s side.

  “Happy to meet you, too, to be sure,” he said, his voice bright with an Irish lilt. He turned to Honey. “And what can I do for you, my dearest?”

  “Blood roses? Have you seen any?”

  “Mm, no. They’re not here. In fact, there’s only one bush in the whole island that bears them, but it’s… er… gone missing.”

  Rowena frowned. “Gone missing?”

  “Yes, quite up and walked away. Someone dug it up and took it from its place. I keep hoping it’ll come back, but it seems to be quite happy wherever it’s gotten to.”

  She frowned. “That’s terrible. People shouldn’t steal.”

  “No, I agree. They shouldn’t,” Oisin sighed, “and yet they do, even here.”

  “What do you need the blood roses for?” Honey asked.

  A deep-seated instinct told her to be cautious. It wasn’t that she distrusted the druids, because that was absolutely not the case. It was that she wasn’t sure who else might be listening in.

  “There’s an old recipe for a face cream that I want to try,” she said, not completely lying but certainly not telling the whole truth.

  “Ah. Well, maybe lavender would be as good?” Honey suggested.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I think there’s a property in the blood rose that’s important.”

  Oisin went into the shop and came back out with a grimoire of his own. “Blood roses are good for healing salves, face creams…” He bowed to Rowena with a smile, his sharp, even teeth blinding against the darkness of his skin. “And also for transformative potions. Knowing that, I might be able to find a good replacement that’s used to activate the same sorts of things.”

  Rowena knew that healing salves, even ones intended for vampires, could be made with a variety of components, so she abandoned her search. “Of course. If you could just point me in the right direction…”

  Chapter Seven

  They returned to the cottage with the new herbs in hand. Oisin had talked her into accepting vervain as a good substitute for the blood rose, and she knew it would work, so she had agreed. Now, with mortar, pestle and cauldron, she brewed up a lotion that she could use for Lucius’s burns.

  The sun was still in the sky when she went to him. Grendel steadied the bowl full of lotion on the bed while she stripped Lucius’s charred and damaged clothes away. Even with the burns over so much of his body, Lucius was a handsome man. He’d been an athlete before his entry into immortality, and his body was strong and muscular. There were old scars on his skin, marks that had been there before he’d taken his last breath as a human, reduced now to white lines on his tawny skin. He was beautifully made, and she understood why Julia had chosen to keep him alive for all times. A treasure like this man should never be lost to the grave.

  With gentle fingers, she applied the lotion to his burns. The front half of his body was ravaged by the effects of the sun. Even though she thought she’d made enough for two or three applications, she ended up using more than half on the first pass.

  He stirred slightly when she finished applying the salve to his more personal parts, and his dark eyes opened. She had never known any vampire that could wake in the middle of the day, but here he was, looking at her with awareness in his gaze.

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “H’lo,” he managed. “Wh...where…?”

  “In my cottage. Do you remember what happened?”

  Lucius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Yes. Why did…”

  “Why did I stop you?” she guessed. He nodded slightly. “Why did you want to burn?”

  His eyes opened again and fastened on her face. “Because of you.”

  Rowena�
��s mouth dropped open. “Because of me?”

  “Your spell.”

  She thought back to the fountain pool and the words she’d spoken over the coin. “The love spell.”

  He sighed, and the look in his soulful brown eyes softened. “Yes. You’re powerful.”

  Grendel snorted and walked away, but Rowena asked, “Were you enspelled by me?”

  “Yes,” Lucius said. “But not… magic. You.”

  She felt warmth spread through her chest, and she spontaneously took his hand. He closed his fingers weakly around hers. “But if that’s true, why did you try to kill yourself?”

  He took a breath, as if every word he spoke was a dreadful effort. Perhaps it was. He answered, “I want… to know you. But Julia…”

  “Your Maker.”

  “Yes. Won’t allow.”

  “Well, it’s not for her to say,” Rowena stated flatly. “It’s none of her business.”

  Lucius closed his eyes tightly, and a red-tinged tear slipped out between his long black lashes. “It is.”

  “How?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”

  She watched him for an answer, but the day had taken hold of him again.

  Rowena and Grendel went out to get dinner in one of the many restaurants on the island, and when they returned, it was after dark. Lucius was sitting on the bed with a bath towel wrapped around his waist. His magnificent torso was bare, and the burns had mostly healed.

  “Good evening,” he greeted as soon as they walked in.

  “Good evening,” she responded.

  Grendel turned and left again, leaving both of them mystified. She closed the door behind him.

  “I guess he wants more fresh air,” Rowena shrugged.The air was heavy with emotion and possibility. She licked her lips and said, “I… can put more lotion on your burns.”

  “That would be lovely,” he admitted, “but I can’t continue to be such an imposition.”

  “It’s no imposition.” She went to the table where the rest of the lotion waited in the wooden bowl she had put it in. “Besides, I have some questions to ask you.”

  Lucius sighed. “I thought you might.”

  Rowena came to the bed with the lotion. She began to gently apply it to burns on his chest. “Why did you try to kill yourself? I mean, what a terrible waste…”

  He sighed and let her minister to his hurts in silence. Finally, he said, “I want to get to know you.”

  “And that’s why you wanted to burn?” She shook her head, and a black curl fell into her eyes. She pushed it away with the back of her hand. “That makes no sense.”

  “Actually, it makes perfect sense.” He took her hand in his, stopping her from her healing work. “Miss Rowena, when I met you, something inside me came to life that I thought had died years ago. Julia Silvania Caratacus… she Created me in this night, but before my mortal self died, she was my owner.”

  Rowena was saddened. “Owner?”

  “Yes. I was a gladiator. I’d been born a slave, sold to the ludus, and put through several fights. I was a champion, and she desired me when she saw me. So she purchased me.” He sighed. “I’ve never known a day of freedom in two thousand years. She owned me then, and she owns me still.” He looked into Rowena’s eyes. “But she has never owned my heart, and my heart yearns to be with you.”

  “Then be with me,” she urged.

  “I can’t. She won’t allow it. And if I try, she’ll break me and murder you.” He shook his head. “I can’t bear to see that happen, and I can’t bear to be a slave any longer. The sun was my only chance to escape.”

  Rowena looked down at their hands. She interlaced her fingers with his. “And I pulled you back from that. Should I apologize?”

  “Only if you’re sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry.” She returned her eyes to him, and their gazes united again. She felt that warmth in her chest turning into heat, and it made her cheeks redden. “I will help you get away from her.”

  Lucius kissed her, his lips soft but firm. She leaned into the touch, her eyes closing so that she could feel the sensation. His lips were cool, and he had no breath, something that seemed strange at first. Lucius took the bowl of lotion and put it on the bedside table.

  “You can’t,” he told her softly. “There’s no escaping her, or her agents. I’ve tried. For centuries, I’ve tried. But for now, while we’re here and she’s somewhere out there…”

  Lucius cupped her face in his hands, gently holding her for a deep kiss. She covered his hands with her own, then slid her fingers down his muscular forearms to his bulging biceps. He kissed her deeper still, pressing closer to her. His lips broke from hers and ran softly over her cheek to her throat. He pressed them delicately to the tender skin over her pulse, and she sighed.

  “Do it,” she urged in a heated whisper.

  He needed no encouragement. With her consent so freely given, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her to him. She embraced him tightly. The cold sharpness of his fangs penetrated through her skin. The pain was sharp but brief, supplanted by a languid feeling of bliss and pleasure that pulsed through her like the ocean tide. He drank from her, the pressure of his lips and tongue making her dizzy with desire.

  “Lucius,” she groaned, lacing her fingers through his hair and holding him in place. He growled softly and took her harder, and she could feel his pulse matching hers. They strove together, united on the most primal of levels, the rhythm of his feeding rocking her to her core. She shuddered in his arms, overcome with the physical delight of what he was doing to her, her mind lost in the maelstrom of sensation. He stopped feeding and let her ride through her ecstasy, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other clasping his back spasmodically.

  When she at last fell still and her body went quiet again, Lucius gently laid her back with her head upon the pillow. He stretched out beside her, his skin warm, and held her as she fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Grendel returned to the bungalow several hours later with a set of shopping bags clutched in his teeth. He bumped the door open, waking Rowena and startling the vampire. He dumped the bags on the floor by the bed.

  Rowena ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trailing down to touch the spot on her throat where he had bitten her. There were no marks now, and nothing to show from the outside what had occurred. She felt a connection to him, though, and when she looked at him, his eyes were brighter.

  “What’s in the bags?” Lucius asked.

  “Why don’t you get off your ass and look?” Grendel suggested.

  “Del, that’s rude,” Rowena scolded.

  Lucius chuckled. “No, it’s all right. Grimalkins don’t tend to like vampires.”

  “That’s not it,” her familiar grumbled.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I’m tired and he’s in my spot.”

  The vampire rose from the bed, holding his towel in place. “So sorry, master grimalkin. Is that better?”

  Grendel jumped up onto the bed and sniffed at the sheets. “Marginally.”

  Rowena rolled her eyes and abandoned the bed, too, which suited Grendel just fine. He stretched out to occupy all of the real estate that they had left behind, his head on the pillow and his tail thumping against the mattress.

  The bags, Rowena discovered, were filled with clothing in Lucius’s size. Somehow, like with the wardrobe he had purchased for his witch, the grimalkin had managed to purchase an entire rack of clothes that the vampire could wear. Rowena was a little sorry to see the towel be replaced by jeans and a white button-down shirt, but when he rolled up the sleeves, the effect was sexy enough to convince her to stop caring.

  “While I was out, I ran into a poltergeist putting up more wanted posters,” Grendel told them, not moving his head from the pillow.

  Lucius frowned. “Wanted posters?”

  “Julia wants you back, and she’s offering a reward.”

  “What’s the reward?” he asked.

 
; “Doesn’t matter,” Rowena objected, “because nobody is going to be collecting it.”

  The grimalkin continued, “He said that he’s one of many bonded companions that Julia Caratacus has on the island.”

  The witch frowned. “Bonded companions?”

  “She means slaves,” Lucius said dismissively.

  “Well, that’s charming.”

  Grendel sat up. “He showed he the chains on his wrists. They’re just like the ones your boyfriend is wearing.”

  She could have objected to the terminology, but instead she said, “He’s not wearing chains.”

  Lucius held up his hands. “Use your OtherSight,” he suggested.

  She Looked. Using her OtherSight, the power to see magic in all its guises, she could see the shackles that Lucius wore. Metal cuffs surrounded both wrists, connected by a heavy chain. Another chain ran from one of the cuffs all the way to the door, where it stopped short, severed mid-link.

  “That’s why she can’t just pull you back,” she said, understanding. “She has no power over it within my wards.”

  “While I’m in your bungalow, I’m safe. But once I step outside…”

  “She’ll have you again.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  Rowena set her jaw. “Well, I don’t approve of slave chains, so I’m going to get those off of you. Then we’ll see who she thinks she is.”

  Lucius shook his head. “No. She’s more powerful than you think.”

  “And I’m more powerful than you know.”

  She kept her OtherSight on the cuffs and muttered a curse. “Haec vincula praevaricator!”

  A flash of brilliant magic burst out of both hands, striking the cuffs on Lucius’s wrists. A crack like thunder filled the room, and Rowena few head over heels across the room. She landed on her side, her skull barely missing the crane arm on the hearth.

  Lucius ran to her and helped her up. “Are you hurt?” he fretted.

  “No,” she admitted. “Just annoyed.” She brushed her hands off and looked around, feeling like someone was watching her.

  “Maybe don’t try that again,” Grendel suggested.

  “Clearly not.” Rowena cast Shadowing, which would reveal any presences in the room she had not permitted. There was a brief blip at edges of Lucius’s eyes, and she frowned.