by J A Cummings
“Can your Maker see through you?” she asked.
Lucius hesitated, taken aback by the question. “I don’t think so. I would hope not.”
“Well,” Rowena said, pressing her lips into a disapproving line. “I think we’re about to find out.”
Across the island, in a villa on a hill, Julia Caratacus stopped sharply in her tracks. The incubus that reclined in her bed raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Lucius’s chains,” she said. “Someone has tried to break them.”
“Who?” he asked, rising from the bed in all of his wicked naked glory.
Julia had already enjoyed that nakedness and was not distracted. She turned to a mirror on the wall, one that was useless to her for her own reflection but which could be pressed into service in another way.
“Speculum, mihi verum,” she ordered.
Images danced across the surface of the mirror, people and places that appeared and disappeared in flickers. Finally the image came to rest on a young woman, a witch, with a pretty heart-shaped face and flowing black curls.
“You little bitch,” Julia spat.
The incubus looked. “Pretty little thing.”
“For now. While I allow her to keep the skin on her head.”
He chuckled. “Ooh, we don’t like having competition, do we?” He leaned on the back of the chair that Julia was sitting in. “I saw her today, keeping company with the Hessian.”
“Where?”
“At the druid statue. She went to their grove.”
Julia ordered him, “Find out what she wanted.” She glared at the reflection. “Find out who she is.”
The incubus left Julia’s room and went into his own adjoining bedchamber. He pulled on a bathrobe and summoned his servants. Three chupacabras appeared in a puff of greenish-black smoke. Chester, the chupacabra in the middle, knelt the fastest of the three, but all took their places on their knees.
The demon strolled over and stood in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back. They did their best not to look at him, afraid to show any disrespect. Denizens of Hell were not to be trifled with, even at a monster resort.
He gestured toward his mirror, which repeated the brief display its twin had shown to Julia.
“Do any of you know who this witch is?”
Chester looked, then looked away. “Just a lady,” he said.
“What lady?”
“My lord…”
The incubus grabbed his face and made him meet his eyes. “Tell me.”
“She’s a guest at the resort. She’s got a bungalow on the eastern shore, right between me and Heinrich.”
He laughed. “Indeed. And do you think she has Lucius with her?”
The female chupacabra to Chester’s right admitted, “I would if I was her.”
Chester groaned. “I don’t know, my lord.”
“Find out. Report back to me within the hour.”
He clapped his hands and sent Chester back to his bungalow, his demonic magic sending him with a puff of sulfur. The incubus looked at the two kneeling female monsters and smiled.
“Well, ladies… looks like it’s just the three of us.” He backed up until he could recline upon his bed, where he opened the belt on his bathrobe. “Don’t be shy…”
Chapter Nine
Rowena sat at the kitchen table, poring over her grimoire. Grendel scratched at the door, and she opened it, letting him in. The last hints of sunset were fading from the sky as her familiar trotted past her with a lamb bleating in his jaws.
“What is this?” she demanded.
Grendel dropped the frightened creature at Lucius’s feet, interrupting the vampire’s perusal of a novel that had been delivered by the staff. “Dinner,” the grimalkin said.
Lucius looked down at the animal in dismay. “Not for me, it’s not.”
“Where did you get that poor thing?”
“There’s a flock in the desert.”
“It probably belongs to someone.”
“Belongs to me now,” Grendel defended. “I caught it.”
Lucius picked the lamb up in his arms and held it gently while he checked it for wounds. “A few scratches and teeth marks, but nothing life-threatening,” he told Rowena.
Grendel clicked his tongue. “I was keeping it from leaking so you could drink it,” he told the vampire.
“I don’t bite livestock.”
“You’re an apex predator,” the grimalkin complained. “What’s the matter with you? Predate!”
“Not on lambs,” Lucius said firmly.
“Why? Is it beneath you or something?”
The Roman vampire looked embarrassed and glanced up at Rowena. “Maybe it’s just preference,” she said, striding over and taking the lamb away. She stroked its wool and it cuddled up to her, shaking. “Poor baby. It’s alright.”
Grendel was beside himself. “What is the use of being a powerful creature of the night if you’re not even able to end a lamb, for crying out loud?!”
“Del, calm yourself.”
“No!” He paced through the room. “You don’t get it. He’s got to recover from his burns because there’s a fight coming, and if he doesn’t drink blood, he won’t get stronger. And if he drinks your blood, you’ll be weakened, and you both need to be at full strength to fight for his freedom. That is what you want, yes? His freedom?”
“Of course,” she frowned. “Del, what is the matter?”
“Ask him,” he said, flipping his tail and nudging at Lucius with his chin. “Ask him who else Julia has on her payroll.”
“She doesn’t pay any of us,” Lucius objected, “but… I’m not the only bonded companion she brought here. There’s Hegula, the witch who does her hair. And me. And Chester, the chupacabra…”
“Chester? I know Chester. He’s in the cottage right next door,” Rowena said, alarmed.
“That’s not the problematic one,” Grendel told her. “I can take a goat-sucker.”
“Lovely name, that,” Lucius commented. “And you wonder why I won’t bite sheep? Nobody wants to be called sheep-sucker.”
Grendel glared at him. “Keep listing.”
He sighed. “There’s Harry, the poltergeist. And Lora, the banshee.”
“That’s quite a staff.”
“She’s royalty. She always travels with an entourage.”
The familiar took a stiff-legged step toward the vampire. “And?”
“And Mario,” he sighed. He glanced at Rowena. “The incubus.”
Her face went pale. “Incubus?”
“Yes.”
She understood now why Grendel was upset. As a witch, she had accepted her power and the change that came with it when she’d made a deal with the Devil. It was part of the job. In the years since then, she had failed to render the appropriate worship to the Fallen One and had switched her allegiance to Hecate, the witches’ goddess, instead. Since her renunciation of Satan, he had been sending his minions after her, intent on either returning her to the fold or dragging her to Hell for punishment. Incubi weren’t quite archfiends, but they had more power than the average hellspawn, and in her experience, they were less interested in re-conversion than they were in retribution. Rowena dearly wanted to avoid eternal damnation if at all possible. An incubus on the island, especially one who’d now have an interest in her, put her at great risk of a dip in the Lake of Fire.
That was something she desperately wanted to avoid.
“Mario is a bonded companion, the same as I am,” Lucius explained, not understanding what fears had been awoke in his companions. “He is compelled to work for Julia and for her alone. She owns his marker.”
“How did she get it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. He was with her before I was.”
“Then he’s been a slave for even longer than you have been,” Rowena mused.
“Which means he’s just as desperate to get free.” Grendel sat down and looked at the lamb, but he was thinking o
f something else. “I wonder what he’ll give us if we give him his liberty when we give Lucius his?”
Rowena sighed and sat back down at the table, the lamb still snuggling in her arms. “My deal-making days are over, Del. I can’t trust myself to work out something that doesn’t have any loopholes.”
Lucius went to the table and sat, as well. “If he’s as desperate for freedom as I am, he won’t be looking for loopholes, I don’t think. He’ll just be looking for a way out.”
Grendel snorted rudely. “Demons always look for loopholes. How could you have lived this long without learning that?”
The Roman vampire looked at the grimalkin and said firmly. “I’ve known Mario for centuries. How well do you know him?”
“Boys,” Rowena reproached them softly. “No arguing.”
The lamb began to bleat in panic, its little legs churning as it tried to run away. Rowena opened her mouth to speak to it, but a heavy banging on the door silenced her. Lucius leaped to his feet, his fangs bared. Grendel growled, and the lamb leaped out of Rowena’s arms to scurry away and hide behind the bed.
The bang repeated twice, and the door shivered beneath the weight of the blows. Rowena tried to go to the door, but Lucius held her back. She muttered words of magic, and her hands began to glow with captive fire. Grendel ran to the door and sniffed.
“Chupacabra,” he announced. He yowled a warning cry. Most things ran when he made that horrible sound, but the being attacking their door only paused before raking at the wood with claws. Grendel’s eyes turned glowing red, and he hissed.
Outside, a male voice shouted. “Here, now! What are you doing?”
Rowena recognized Heinrich’s voice. Hoofbeats thundered up to the door, and the pounding stopped. Rowena could hear a ghastly moaning sound as the chupacabra loped away.
“What the hell is happening?” Lucius asked aloud.
Rowena went to the door, gently pushing her familiar out of the way, and opened it when Heinrich started knocking. The horseman stood at the threshold. “Miss Rowena,” he said, concerned. “Are you all r - oh.”
“Come in,” she said. “Quickly.”
Heinrich stepped inside, and she closed the door, taking the barest moment to shake her head at the damage that had been done.
“Was that Chester?” Rowena asked.
“The chupacabra who stays next door?” Heinrich asked. “Yes. It was he. I think. I confess, I can’t differentiate his kind well. Oh! A lamb.”
“It… yes.” She put her hands to her head. “This has gotten to be a very strange evening.”
The Roman vampire offered his hand. “My name is Lucius.”
The Horseman clasped forearms with him. “Heinrich Schultz. You are…”
“He’s in hiding. We’re trying to help him get his freedom.” Rowena sat down. “He’s enslaved by the same vampire that I believe holds Chester’s marker. He was acting at her behest.”
“Oh. I see.” Heinrich stood at parade rest, his hands behind his back. “How can I help you, Miss Rowena?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. She went to the lamb and gathered the frightened animal up in her arms, trying to soothe it now that its supernatural predator had stopped attacking the door. “There has to be a way to break the chains that Julia has put on everyone.”
“On everyone?” Heinrich asked.
“Well, on many,” Grendel said. “She travels with a whole tribe of slaves.”
“Bonded companions.” Lucius rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Rowena wondered if vampires could get headaches. “There are six of us. Julia makes the seventh in our party.”
Seven was a magical number. The only number that had more power was thirteen. The witch took a deep breath.
“Thank you for coming to our rescue, Heinrich,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. Despite the fact the he was a ghost, he was warm and firm to the touch. She could imagine that he was just as muscular as Lucius beneath the heavy wool of the uniform. Rowena realized that she was holding his arm for too long and pulled her hand away.
“It was my honor, Miss Rowena,” the horseman said. She could imagine his smile. She thought he must have had a handsome face. “I don’t know the first thing about markers, or how to break curses.” He gestured at the empty space above his shoulders. “If I did, I daresay things might be somewhat different…”
“For myself, I’m glad that they aren’t, because your curse gave me the chance to meet you.”
“Oh! Well.” If he’d had cheeks, he would have been blushing. She could hear it in his voice. “That honor and pleasure have been mine, my lady.”
Grendel chuckled and glanced at Lucius. “Never thought you’d be competing with a man without a head, did you?”
The vampire gave the grimalkin an arch look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course not.” The grey feline sniffed the lamb. “If nobody else is going to eat this…”
“Grendel!” Rowena cried.
“What? You can’t keep it as a pet.”
“I’ll take it back to its flock in the morning.”
“Then what am I supposed to eat?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I will call room service.”
An awkward silence fell in the bungalow as witch and familiar glared at one another. Grendel’s tail slashed the air as he whipped it back and forth in his displeasure. Lucius sighed.
“With all due respect, Miss Rowena,” he said carefully, “the resort’s brochures offer hunting as an activity, and since grimalkins eat lambs and goats as part of their normal diet…”
He trailed off, and he offered his hostess a meaningful but sad smile. She sighed.
“Fine. Just… do it outside, and someplace I can’t hear it.”
Grendel seized the hapless lamb out of her arms and dragged it to the door, which Heinrich opened for him. The sound of bleating followed the grimalkin out into the night.
“Nature will do as it will do,” Lucius told her. “And you cannot…”
“Just be quiet,” she bade. She sat at her grimoire and sighed. “I don’t eat meat for a reason. If I can’t bear to kill it myself, then…”
“You are too soft-hearted for this world,” Lucius told her, his voice warm. “A rare and lovely trait.”
“Indeed,” Heinrich agreed. His torso turned slightly toward the door, and he said, “I have no need of sleep as such, considering I’m a ghost. I would be happy to stand guard for you to ensure that Chester doesn’t come back to cause any more trouble.”
Rowena smiled. “That would be lovely, but I don’t want you to work your holiday away. We’ll be fine.”
The Headless Horseman squared his broad shoulders. “My lady, it is never work to protect a treasure. Guten abend, fraulein. Herr Vampir.” He clicked his heels together and left the bungalow behind.
There was a long silence, then Rowena started reading through her book of spells again. Lucius sat at the table with her. “He’s besotted with you. You have him quite beguiled.”
She looked up from her grimoire. “I didn’t cast any spells on him, I swear.”
Lucius smiled warmly. “Not of a literal kind, I’m sore. You didn’t need to.”
Rowena blushed. “So many compliments in one night! I’m not quite certain how to handle it.”
He took her hand and kissed it, his lips warm and soft. The blood he had taken from her that afternoon was still sustaining him. “Accept them, for we only speak the truth.”
His words and gallantry only made her blush harder. She felt her heartbeat speed up a notch, and she was certain that he could hear it, too.
“Thank you, Lucius.”
“Oh, no, Miss Rowena.” He smiled again, but his eyes never left hers. “Thank you.”
Chapter Ten
Julia Silvania Caratacus sat still while Hegula, her witch slave, styled her hair. While she was immobile, she silently took stock of her slaves. Her captive banshee, Lora, was selecting Julia’s ensemble fo
r the evening, while Harry prepared her car. Mario, who had done what he’d been purchased to do, slept off his afterglow in the rumpled bed. Chester was busy harassing the witch, and Lucius… well, Lucius Vorenus Marcellus was vexing her again.
Julia had been born the daughter of a Roman senator, and as such, she was accustomed to having things her way. She’d never had to ask for anything for the entirety of her father’s life, and when the venerable old senator had passed away, she had continued to indulge herself in his honor. She had actively sought out her vampire sire the first time her hairdresser found a white hair, and when he tried to tell her that he wouldn’t Make her just because she asked him, she had found a way to take the power from him. It had been a bloody evening, but in the end, she had become immortal, and he… well, he had ended his existence in a bonfire. Such was the price of telling Julia “no”.
She hadn’t thought anything of purchasing the handsome gladiator she had encountered in the games at Verona. To have so comely a specimen going to his death in the fighting pits had seemed like such a waste that she simply had to intervene. She’d purchased him the first night she had seen him, and she’d kept him on hand for a week, playing with him and tasting him, until she finally decided to share her immortality with him. If he’d been intolerable company, she never would have done it, but for all his physical prowess, he was meek and beaten, and he was perfectly ready to do everything the Domina required. So she had required his mortal life, and she had repaid him in blood. It was hardly that much of a change for him. Human slave, vampire thrall...what was the difference, really? He would live to serve her, and for a very long time.
She never should have let him dress in the clothes of the French Revolution for that silly ball. His head had been turned badly enough back when those styles were new. Back in those days, he was always reading about liberty and the rights of man and nonsense written to protest the divine right of kings. She was his queen, and if her rights weren’t exactly divine, she still believed that they were sacrosanct. She had corrected him harshly in the day, so harshly that he had been barely able to do more than crawl for decades. He was fortunate she had ever let him regain his feet, but then, she hadn’t Made him for his conversation. A tolerable Lucius was a physically capable one, and he’d been so grateful to her for taking away his pain - pain that she had caused, which was the beauty of it - that he’d put away his revolutionary leanings.
