by J. F. Lewis
I said something that I hoped didn’t sound impolite, but it was hard to concentrate on what Phillip was saying. I didn’t have the words to describe what I was seeing. The building was beautiful, all stone, marble, wood, and stained glass. I can’t tell Frank Lloyd Wright from Andrew Lloyd Webber, but this place was perfect. Paintings hung on the walls in just the right light, while sculptures graced the alcoves and hallways.
The elevator was manned by a human attendant, who smiled and spoke to us as if we were royalty. He knew Phillip on sight and pressed an elevator button marked with a strange symbol. “Don’t forget that sunrise will be at six eighteen, Lord Phillip,” the young man said cheerfully.
“Thank you, Dennis,” Phillip answered. “This charming young woman is Lady Tabitha. I’d like you to treat her and her escort as my guests.” His lip curled briefly as he said escort; he’d come close to being less polite. As he continued, I wondered what he’d almost said. “They are welcome without chaperone in the common areas, the lounge, the elevator, on the roof, and of course, in the waiting area outside my own quarters. See to it and let me know immediately upon completion.”
“Of course, sir.” Dennis smiled at Talbot and me. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Tabitha. Could I trouble you for a drop of blood?”
“It’s for the security system only, I assure you,” Phillip explained. I held out my finger and Dennis produced a tiny golden needle with a small crystal on one end. He pricked my finger and the crystal turned red. It flashed once then faded to white again. Dennis repeated the procedure for Talbot. As the crystal turned white for the second time, the doors opened and Dennis ushered us politely out of the elevator.
“It shouldn’t be longer than ten minutes, Lord Phillip,” Dennis called after us.
When the elevator closed, Phillip led us toward a large wooden door. The wood looked like it had been stained purple. Outside the door was a large sitting area that I mistook for a library at first. To one side of the elevator stood a midsize wine rack filled with bottles labeled with dates, ethnicities, and blood types. Phillip must have noticed my interest.
“Oh, this is my waiting area. I’m an erratic sleeper, so one can never be sure if I’ll be receiving guests or snoring the morning, evening, or afternoon away. This is just my little way of apologizing to guests for the inconvenience. Of course, Dennis can arrange for food to be brought up to the more broad-dieted, the humans, werewolves, and what-not”—he glanced at Talbot as he said the last—“but since I understand firsthand how quickly the thirst can come upon our kind, I like to keep a wide selection of appropriate vintages at hand.”
The grand door opened as we approached it and Phillip welcomed us inside. “Enter of your own free will.”
“Isn’t that what Dracula says?” I asked, pausing in the doorway.
“My apologies,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought I was being clever. Please, do come in. I promise my intentions are not malevolent.”
“It’s okay,” Talbot said softly.
I went in. There were even more books inside than in the waiting area. Lovely oak bookshelves lined the walls and wrapped around the oddly shaped room. The interior of Phillip’s apartment was humongous; he seemed to have the floor to himself. Glass cases contained displays that ranged from a suit of samurai armor to an actual vampire with a wooden stake through his heart. Startled, I backed away from the glass case and bumped into Talbot.
“Talbot, that’s—”
“You mustn’t mind Percy.” Phillip ran his hand along the glass as he passed, without ever actually touching it. “He’s being punished.”
For what? I thought. Percy was supported by a metal stand extending up from the bottom of the case and passing concealed under the rear of his jacket. He wore a tweed suit, gold-rimmed spectacles with round lenses, and a thin little mustache. The expression on his face reminded me of the Mona Lisa, a smirk perhaps, or bemused disapproval.
Age hadn’t worn away his good looks; in fact, vampirism had frozen him at the magic moment before men stop looking distinguished and become simply old. He was the first vampire I’d seen with eyes so thoroughly faded, the irises gone from whatever color they had once been to the slightly gray off-white of recycled paper. He was trapped in there, frozen by the stake that had entered at an angle, piercing his tie neatly through the middle several inches above a diamond tie tack. I gave myself a quick mental biology lesson—the stake had pierced Percy’s heart.
The plaque at his feet read “My dear Percy, who serves as a remembrance to all that I do not bluff, I do not make empty threats, and there are indeed worse fates than death.”
“He was such a naughty vampire.” Phillip chuckled.
“He’s dead, then? Or he’s a Soldier or whatever?” I couldn’t imagine him being anything less than a Vlad or a Master, but I hadn’t sensed him. “I thought a stake would dust a Soldier.”
“Oh, no, my dear,” Phillip answered merrily. “Percy’s no mere Knight. The stake masks his presence. He can see everything, hear, feel, smell, but he cannot move. He cannot reach beyond his body, even if you stare him in the eye.”
I shuddered. Phillip raised a finger in a just-a-moment gesture and vanished around a corner of the room. I wandered about, admiring his collection of miniature antique statues, vases, and expensive knickknacks until he returned with two glasses and a bottle of what looked like wine.
“Care to join me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, smiling.
18
TABITHA:
AN AUDIENCE WITH INFAMY
It kind of bothered me that Phillip hadn’t offered Talbot anything, but once I tasted the “wine” I knew why. It wasn’t exactly wine. The texture, taste, and smell of it were like wine, but my body knew that it was blood. Surely if Eric knew about this, he would have had some at the club; especially with all the bitching he did about not being able to taste anything.
“This is nice,” I told Phillip. “Is it a family secret? Because I’ve never heard of it before.”
“Begging your pardon, Lady Tabitha, but you were born yesterday.”
I must have blushed because he almost dropped his wineglass and I felt a familiar warmth in my checks.
“Extraordinary! A blush response. You have no idea what a priceless jewel you are.”
My cheeks grew warmer and I looked away. Part of it was real and the other part was a test. I wanted to know how he would react. He touched my cheek briefly and then withdrew his hand.
“To answer your question, it is not a family secret, at least, not my family. Most of my stock is made up of gifts from other creatures, tokens of respect or appreciation…an occasional peace offering. What we’re drinking, for example, was made from the blood of Carmella Goshaunt’s late lover, Emil. She interfered with my most recent attempt at ascension. The poor dear failed, obviously, but her machinations did prove a distinct inconvenience….”
“Ascension?” I asked, taking another sip of the blood wine.
“Of course, my dear…from Master to King, or Vlad, if you prefer.”
Talbot pretended not to react, but I could see him stiffen.
“I didn’t know that you could do that.”
“One can do many things with the correct ingredients. Why, I was commenting on a similar subject some months ago to a young Master vampire who has rather amusing ideas regarding werewolf souls. I think perhaps you may know him.” Phillip smiled a genteel smile and put the cork back in the bottle. He hurried off again and Talbot and I shared a look.
“Roger?” I mouthed.
Talbot nodded, but before he could say anything Phillip returned with a small black container roughly the size and shape of a cigar box, made of some kind of stone. “Volcanic glass,” he informed me. “Percy made it for me when we were…on better terms.”
He offered me the box and I handed my wineglass to Talbot. The box itself felt warm to the touch, but it wasn’t real heat. It felt more like what I imagined magic mi
ght feel like. Inside the box, six items were carefully arranged on black velvet: a thumbnail-size red crystal, possibly a ruby, with a crack in it; a silver ring molded in the shape of a snake; a golden amulet; a pair of yellowish dice; and a small black stone.
“Each of these items was a part of a ritual or ceremony that allowed me to become a vampire or to grow in power.”
“Become a vampire? Didn’t you have a sire?”
“Not everyone travels an identical path to immortality,” Phillip explained. “Vampires have always been reluctant to embrace wizards. As I could locate none to aid me willingly, I was forced to improvise.” Trapped by a memory or an old thought, he looked off into space, sighing wistfully before his attention returned to the box.
“The Stone of Aeternum is the only one I haven’t used, but it requires a vampire so rare that even a helluo librorum, a bookworm, such as myself has read of only a few. It’s not as if one meets such a creature every day.”
He held his hand out for the box and I handed it back to him. He looked fondly at its contents and then shut the lid. “It’s of no true consequence, however; I must wait at least another seventy years before I can attempt an additional ascension. And I’d have to contact the right demons….”
He walked off around the corner of his room again and called back over his shoulder. “That is a lesson worth remembering, my dear. Never try to ascend more than once a century or you may undo the work you’ve done. None of those soul-thirsty power brokers will tell you that either, so take my word for it.”
He returned quickly, his glass in one hand and a necklace case in the other. “Now, this,” he said with a smile, “you will appreciate.”
He handed the case to me and took a sip of his wine. “Open it,” he said eagerly. “It won’t bite.”
I did as he requested. Inside was a diamond necklace. I could tell it was real just by the way it sparkled in the light. A double ring of round-cut diamonds set in platinum formed the base of the necklace and alternating strands of one or two smaller pear-cut diamonds dangled like priceless tear-drops at regular intervals. Queen Elizabeth might have worn such a necklace, or maybe the real Lady Bathory, but I had never seen anything like it, not up close.
“Try it on,” he said. Suddenly self-conscious, I looked down at my clothes. I’d changed into a sequined black tank top, a pair of black knit leggings, and running shoes after Eric had unstaked me back at the club. I’d worn it to be comfortable, but it didn’t go with a necklace like this. This necklace deserved to be worn with a gown.
“Do try it on,” he urged. “It will look gorgeous on you.”
“Okay.” Just holding the necklace in my hand made me feel beautiful and extravagant. Trying it on was better and worse at the same time. From the look on Phillip’s face, I knew that it must have looked wonderful, but not being able to see it for myself was unbearable.
“Oh, you simply must look at yourself. It’s astonishing!” He toddled off again, mumbling to himself, then glanced back at me. “Oh, by all means, follow me. I never move the mirror, it’s too delicate.”
Around the corner he’d so frequently darted past was a large ornate desk with a gold reading lamp shaped like a dragon. Light poured out of the dragon’s open mouth, illuminating an old book with pretty little pictures around the words. A leather case containing an assortment of pens lay open on the desk and a slim silver laptop rested in an over-stuffed reading chair directly across from the desk.
Phillip brushed past the desk and over to a pair of doors set back between two bookcases. He opened them to reveal a full-length mirror held by a crystal frame that was decorated with fanciful flowers and artful designs. In the mirror I could see not just Phillip’s reflection, but my own. I looked better than I ever had in life.
Everything about being a vampire rushed in on me at once—the rampage in the Demon Heart, the blood, Eric, Lillian’s terrified face as I struck her down, all of it, my mind seared like bacon in a hot frying pan.
Then, almost as if the mirror had a will of its own, I sensed that it wasn’t satisfied with what it had made me feel. I guess I hadn’t been dead long enough to truly horrify myself with what I had done, so the mirror rummaged through my life for ammunition. The last conversation I’d had with Rachel had been a fight. Our words rang out in my ears. Each mistake I’d made, each humiliation I’d ever endured, the mirror latched onto, multiplied, and distilled. All the times I’d ever been hurt, by Rachel, by my parents, by Eric, crashed back on me as one exaggerated assault.
You want to see how pretty you look? the mirror’s whispering not-quite voice wheedled in my thoughts. I’ll show you what you look like on the outside, but only if you can endure what you are on the inside.
Turning into a vampire had made my emotions more volatile than they’d been when I was alive. I’d been crying right and left since the change, like having PMS all the time. I was easy prey for the mirror: the tears came quickly, pouring red down my cheeks, a deluge of self-loathing, self-pity, and remorse. I turned away.
Doors clicked shut behind me as Phillip covered the glass. The mirror’s taunting voice slowly faded, but having once peered into it, I could feel it there, behind the thin paneled doors, watching me, waiting for me to take another look.
Talbot rushed to my side, but I waved him away. I didn’t want to be comforted; I was too busy being mad at myself for crying. I was tired of crying. I hadn’t cried when my grandmother had passed away or when Rachel had died, and the mirror had exploited that, thrown it back at me in a horrible way. Phillip offered me his handkerchief and I took it, soaking the red silk with my blood as I tried to stop the tears.
“Damn it,” I said between sobs.
“It’s my fault,” Phillip said, sounding genuinely angry with himself. “The mirror allows a vampire to see his reflection, but it takes its toll in other ways. We who gaze within that mirror must face the things we’ve done as vampires, our hidden sins, the things that would make us cringe and weep were we still human. I’m so used to it that I had forgotten the effect it can have. I shan’t show it to you again without giving you time to prepare.”
“Is it alive?” I asked.
“There is a demon trapped inside to power it,” Phillip answered, “if that’s what you mean. It’s only a small one.”
Talbot took my arm and we walked out of Phillip’s study and back into the main room of his chambers. “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you,” Phillip offered, “I would be most pleased if you would tell me. You may keep the necklace, of course. I knew at once that you should have it.”
“No, I can’t, it’s too much.”
“Bah,” Phillip protested. “It was a gift from so long ago that I no longer remember who gave it to me. It’s yours whether you take it or leave it, though I’d rather you took it. I have collected so many things over the years that I could give half of it away and never notice.”
I smiled, and my tears began to subside. “How long have you been alive—I mean, how old are you? You seemed—that is, you felt kind of young, you know, outside.”
“Oh, not quite a thousand…each time I ascend it makes other vampires sense me as though I were younger, but my mind has not forgotten the truth that the magic conceals.”
“And you really used those things in the box to become a vampire—to ascend?”
“You will, in time, learn not to question my veracity, my dear.” Phillip’s eyes hardened briefly before softening once again. “But you are new and I can’t bring myself to hold it against you, so yes. Oh, yes. Vampires have always been reluctant to grant immortality to wizards, are strictly forbidden to do so now, unless it is done via a thralldom, which is a capricious immortality at best. So, yes, I had to find alternatives.
“I used those ‘things in the box’ along with rituals, demons, and of course, vampires of the required power level…. Does it concern you? I’m already a Vlad; you have nothing to worry about from me on that account. I’ve no further need for sacrif
ices from those of our rank; my final ascension will be much more difficult to arrange. Besides, I’ve made it a habit to expend only those I found distasteful, and I find you anything but.” He waved a hand. “Enough talk of me, though, I am still waiting to know how to make it up to you—my faux pas with the mirror.”
“But the necklace—”
“The necklace is a gift, my dear, not an apology. I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it.” He gestured around the room. “Excepting the Stone of Aeturnum and my own existence, you may choose from anything I have. Even Percy. Please, take your pick. I insist.”
His eyes sparkled mischievously. “I could dispel the enchantment on the city. I used a Veil of Scrythax, you know. Have you seen one? Oh, they’re ghastly-looking things, but incredibly effective and oh, so delicate. There are nights when I’m gripped with the urge to rush to the vault, seize the hideous thing and smash it to pieces, to let the humans see us for what we really are and remember all the things I’ve hidden from them. Think of the panic! It would be impossible for the Council of High Magic to contain it. Another war with the humans would be such…fun. It’s always so interesting to see how the human rulers choose to conceal it from their constituents.”
Uh…no. There was nothing that I saw in Phillip’s house that I really wanted and a war was not my idea of fun. There were plenty of things that it might be nice to have, but…I wondered what Percy had done and whether I ought to ask for him and let him go. Then Talbot mouthed werewolves at me and I remembered that I was supposed to be finding out about the magic gun thing.
I held my hand out to Talbot and he handed me the silver bullet. Phillip’s eyes lit up when I showed it to him. He delicately took it from my outstretched palm and held it up to one eye.
“A bullet from El Alma Perdida, meaning in Spanish ‘the Lost Soul.’ I wonder where he found it.”
“I was…we were looking for the rest of it, the other bullets, and the gun. Talbot tracked it here for me.”
“Ah,” Phillip said excitedly, “information, the most valuable gift of all! Do you realize how rare it is for one of my new acquaintances to ask me for information? They all ask for money or power—”
