by E J Frost
Newbury Street twinkles in the dusk. The brightness makes me feel smaller, shabbier, even more tired than I am. I walk down the block slowly. Wood smoke winds through the air from somewhere. They probably import it from the suburbs.
I stop in front of Rowena’s Closet. The door opens, emitting a clutch of Newbury Street women carrying bags emblazoned with the shop’s corset logo. Three of them descend to the street without looking at me. Behind them, the door remains open and from it, the last Newbury Street woman calls softly, “Hi, Zee-Zee.”
I reluctantly pace up the steps, my Keds squeaking on the marble. Ro gives me air-kisses and I hand her the bottles.
“Ooo, Sutter Home,” she says, pulling one bottle out of the brown paper bag. “Well, we can fix that.”
She winks at the bottle and the label changes. Ravenswood. I looked at some in the liquor store but shied away from the price tag. Nothing tastes good enough to cost thirty dollars a bottle.
“Ro—” I start to protest.
“Oh, live a little, Zee-Zee.” She waves a hand airily and locks the door behind me. “Come on, I’ve laid on a feast, since I know you won’t celebrate Mabon properly.”
Dread’s dried my mouth, soured my stomach. I don’t think I could eat anything if I tried. But I follow her to the back of the store. She leads me through a door marked ‘Staff Only’ with a tasteful little brass plaque and into a surprisingly large office with two desks, one of which bears the promised feast, still sitting in Styrofoam containers.
“Chinese?” I ask, guessing from the smell.
“You used to like it,” she says, and there’s just an edge of uncertainty in her voice. I glance at her and find her twisting her hands together around the bottle of wine. Then she smiles brightly. “Let’s eat.”
She bustles around, finding a corkscrew. Opening. Pouring. Avoiding my eyes. I put some egg rolls and General Gau’s Chicken on one of the china plates she’s laid out. The smell of good food penetrates my worry and my stomach stops listening to my brain. I bite into an egg roll.
Ro hands me a glass of wine and sits down across from me with her own plate. No salad now. She eats like a normal person and I smile at her despite myself.
“Try the wine,” she says and I do. It’s rich and oaky and perfect with the food.
“Okay, better than what I got.”
“Goose.” Her bright laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I have other things to worry about, don’t I?” I ask. I don’t want to sound accusatory, but I’m too tired, too worried. Ro’s gaze drops back to her plate.
“I couldn’t believe it when you called,” she says softly. “When you asked me whether I knew anything about Solomon’s ring. I should have known it was too much of a coincidence from the beginning. Did they send you?”
They who? “No one sent me. A friend’s been accused of taking the ring and he asked me to help him find it. Ro, this is serious—”
She chokes on a small laugh. “Oh, yes it is. You have no idea—”
“Ro, do you have the ring?”
She holds up one of those long, white hands that aren’t really hers. The air around her hand shimmers. Something peels away from her fingers like a glove. And a huge, black-and-silver ring appears.
“Jesus Christ, Ro.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian thing.”
“Don’t try to sidetrack me. How’d you get it?”
“The ring? Oh, it’s funny, you know. Life’s coincidences. Like you showing up after so many years looking for it.”
“Just tell me,” I say, feeling sick again. Feeling like I’m going to cry.
“Peter, if you’d believe it.”
“Peter Buselli?”
She nods. “Kissed him yet?”
I put my hand over my mouth. I’m going to be sick. Peter.
“He’s cute, isn’t he? Such a nice guy, too. Too bad he’s a null. He’ll never understand why his relationships go nowhere.”
I put my plate down. “Ro—”
“But even nulls have their uses.” She shrugs.
“You used him to get to Andrew Smith,” I say accusingly.
“Oh, yes. I could have gotten Andy on my own. But Peter made it easy. Peter made everything easy. He introduced me to his great-aunt and Andy without even knowing what he was doing.”
She says it so lightly, so pleasantly. As if we were talking about the weather, instead of her viciously using someone who couldn’t possibly know what she was doing to him.
“His great-aunt?” I ask hollowly.
“Willa English.”
And the pieces finally fit together. I put my hands over my eyes. “She’s his great-aunt. It’s Peter she’s been trying to speak to. Not me. But he’s a null, so he can’t hear her. Oh, God.”
Ro laughs. “Has she really? Well, well. She’s a spunky old thing, even dead. And tch-tch, naughty Jou. I’ll have to punish him.” Her voice drops, darkens. “He shouldn’t be letting her out to talk to anyone.”
I look up through my fingers. “Letting her out?”
Ro smiles at me. “You don’t think I’d kill her and then let her shade roam free to tell the first sensitive she ran into, do you?”
My gut contracts. I really am going to be sick.
Ro’s voice. Soft and strangely distant. “You must be hurting now, Zee-Zee. I’m sorry. You’ve always been stronger than me. Even with the ring, I couldn’t take any chances.”
A wave of nausea washes through me, leaving me shaking. This isn’t the way I usually feel when I get sick. This is much, much worse. “The food?” I gasp.
“No, goose, the wine. Never let your enemy do magic on something you’re going to eat.”
“You’re not my enemy!” I cry.
She reaches out and touches my cheek. “Sorry, but I think I am.”
Her touch is ice and fire. I flinch away from it, slide towards the floor, and the world goes black.
Chapter 13
“Bring her.” Ro’s voice, cool and commanding. I’ve never heard her sound that way before.
I stir groggily. Painfully. Nausea washes through me in waves, cramping my gut, turning my bowels liquid. Everything’s rocking, spinning. No, I’m moving. Being . . . lifted, carried. For a second I think it’s the Squire’s strong arms around me and I try to reach out to him. But even drugged and sick that makes no sense.
I struggle to open my eyes.
A broad expanse of bare skin. Golden and smooth. I place my hand flat against it. Feel the warmth of it. The slow thud of the heartbeat underneath. It grounds me a little. Focuses me. God, I need to get to a bathroom.
“Please—” It comes out as a croak.
“Stay still.” A deep voice. Deep and so quiet that if my ear wasn’t pressed against his chest, I wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
Rowena’s cool tones again. “Jou, I know you relish these moments of freedom, but screwing around will only get you more time on the wheel. Hurry up.”
“Bitch,” the deep voice growls, again so low it’s a rumble I feel more than hear.
I blink blearily, trying to figure out where I am, what’s going on. My vision’s blurred. All I can see is golden skin. The sense of movement. I am being carried.
The spark of anger at being helpless and sick and toted around like a sack of potatoes helps clear a little space inside my whirling head.
Rowena. The wine. The ring. Damn it.
A sudden shift and the sense of falling. I grasp at that golden chest, trying to get a hand-hold.
“Let go,” the deep voice says. “I’m just settin’ you down.”
Something hard and cold under my back. I stop trying to grab on and lie back. Now that I’m not moving, the world stops tilting and the nausea recedes a little. My bowels still feel hot and full and I’m pretty desperate to get to a bathroom. I can’t see anything but a blur. What did she do to me?
“Is she awake?” Ro’s voice. “My, my, Zee-Zee, that’s impres
sive. Henbane would have knocked you out for a week when we were in school.”
She used henbane on me? “God, Ro, how could you?” I croak.
“Easy, goose. Like the song says, the first time’s the hardest. It’s all downhill from there.” Her bright laugh. “Jou, drain her.”
Shit, that sounds ominous. I try to roll over, get up, get away. Anywhere’s better than lying here and being drained.
A huge weight settles on my chest, pins me to whatever’s underneath me.
“You’re not going anywhere,” the deep voice says. “So lie back and think of England.”
What? I don’t understand and then I’ve got no time to think about it. A body stretches across mine. Long, heavy and very male. I see his face blurrily for a second, all sharp planes and dark eyes, and then he lowers his face into my neck and I’m blinded by a pile of soft red ropes. I try to reach up, push them away, but he pins my wrists, holds me down while he licks his way up my neck.
Oh, shit. A vampire.
I tense, waiting for the plunge of teeth. I’ve seen vampires, mostly from a safe distance. But I’ve never been bitten by one. I hear it only hurts for an instant. Then everything goes warm and erotic. But I’m not that into biting and I never had any intention of finding out for myself.
I’d really rather not now, either.
And it’s going to go from bad to worse when he drinks my blood. He’s in for a nasty surprise. I use garlic in everything but my granola. I hope he doesn’t combust on top of me.
He doesn’t bite me, though. Just licks his way up my neck to my ear, which he nips and licks and breathes into warmly. I shiver. Ears are a major erogenous zone for me, and despite how scared and sick I am, this is beginning to feel good in a damp and slightly kinky way. Energy rises. Pushes back the sickness. That sizzle that Peter’s kisses so sadly lacked. Only this is a surge of power, the difference between a spark of static electricity and a bolt of lightning. In my blurred sight, I can see energy crackle along the fuzzy red ropes still covering my face. Feel it jump along my nerve endings. The creature lying on top of me feels it, too. He chuckles and grinds his erection between my legs.
“Yum-yum,” he says. He turns his face away for a moment. “I get to fuck her before she dies.”
Huh? Wrong. “Not on the first date—” I hiss, which is about all the noise I can make, given his weight on me. I struggle, for more air and against the doubly-delightful prospect of being raped and sucked dry. My struggles make no impression. Bucking under him only elicits another chuckle and a more painful grinding of his pelvis against mine.
“No,” Rowena’s voice, over a metallic scraping. “If you hadn’t let the old woman’s ghost escape, I would have given her to you. But you don’t deserve any reward, Jou.”
He lifts off me slightly. “You fuckin’ bitch,” he growls. “Stop starvin’ me.”
“Down!” I feel the snap of her power. It’s like a lash. The thing on top of me shudders and collapses. “You will do as I command, D’Asmodei. Drain her and be done with it.”
“You’re crushing me,” I wheeze. He is. I can’t breathe. My heart pounds in my chest. Lights flicker at the corners of my blurred vision.
“Shut up,” he growls. And then neither of us can speak, because he’s covered my mouth with his and shoved his tongue into my mouth. Asshole. I bite down hard and something hot and tasting not at all like blood gushes into my mouth.
That hurts. Take your fucking teeth out of my tongue.
I jolt at his voice in my head. Get off and let me breathe!
His tongue retracts and the weight on me lessens enough that I can take a couple of gasping breaths. Then he covers my mouth with his again, his lips moving against mine, and says into my mind, Still hear me?
Loud and clear.
When I get finished with you, your bitch friend is going to cut your heart out with that knife she’s sharpening and feed it to me. Sound good?
Is that a trick question? I struggle harder, with the strength of growing hysteria, trying to get my leg out from under him so I can knee him in the groin. Do vampires have balls? I don’t even know, but I’ve got to get out from under him.
Stop that sexy struggling, or I really will fuck you to death. Listen, you want to survive this. I want free of her. Help me and I’ll help you. Deal?
I stop struggling. It’s not getting me anywhere, and a deal with a vampire doesn’t sound any worse than being bled dry. Or having my heart cut out and fed to the vampire, for that matter.
Okay, I think cautiously. How are you bound?
He pulls one of my wrists in between our bodies and shoves my hand down the front of his pants.
What the--!
It’s around my balls, you silly—
Call me a bitch and you can go to Hell, no matter what she does to me.
He chuckles into my mind. Feel it?
I open my hand cautiously. I can’t help rubbing along his length, scrunching through the softness of his pubic hair. He growls into my mouth and thrusts himself against my hand.
Stop that, I think. Where is it?
Lower.
I strain, hyper-extending my shoulder, pushing my hand past what he’s filling it with, until my fingertips brush over skin that’s softer, more giving, more rounded.
A hard edge of metal. I trace it with my fingers, trying to ignore the sexy, silky rub of his erection against the skin of my inner wrist. Focus on finding its contours. A thin chain of metal, wrapped tight around the base of his balls. That must be agony for him. On several levels. I concentrate, pushing past the cobwebs filling my brain, and feel it. It’s blinding in my Second Sight. A band of ice so cold it smokes and sears.
Why use cold to bind a vampire?
Okay, I’ve got it.
Get it off me.
Right. My mind is completely blank. Except for the image of tearing off the chain and his testicles in one satisfying rip. Somehow I doubt he’d help me after that. Any suggestions?
He lifts his head, turns it slightly, presses his jaw against my lips so I can feel it when he speaks. “She’s fighting me. She’s too fucking strong.”
I am not!
Shut up.
“Jou, you are the lowest and most useless worm I’ve ever summoned. I gave her the henbane so she’d be weak enough for you to handle—”
He growls, a sound so deep and so low it rattles me down to my bones. “Let me fuck her and I’ll drain her dry.”
I’ll kill you first, I think. I don’t know how, but I’ll give it my best shot.
Would you shut up?
A delicately disgusted snort. “Do whatever you have to do. I want her drained before I take her heart.”
He lifts off me slightly and releases my wrist in order to unsnap his pants and shove them down.
If you even think about—
I’m doin’ a lot more than thinking about it. You be careful where you put your teeth. I lose a nut and you’re not walking out of here with both eyes. Got that?
Uh, yes.
He slides up my body, pulling my wrists wide and pinning them with his knees. I whimper at the painful weight of him on my arms, squirm when I see his blurred shape rise up over me. Wait, this is not a good plan—
He cups my head in his hands, holding me still. Open your mouth.
The Hell I will.
You got a better idea? Let’s hear it. ‘Cause you got about a minute before she starts carving.
Let one of my hands free.
He grunts and shifts fractionally, brushing something firm and warm across my mouth. Sliding his knee off my left forearm.
I reach for my churi.
Nothing. I can’t feel anything. Not the shadow-sheath. Not the cool handle of my churi. Not any of the things I’ve stored in that Other Place.
How fucking stupid are you? You’re inside her sanctum. You can’t summon anything here. And she’ll have felt that—
“Jou!”
See? Use your teeth. Right now. He grow
ls aloud, “I told you she was fighting me. Suck me, dead meat, or I’ll pop your eyeballs out.” He presses a thumb against my eyelid for emphasis.
This is such a bad plan.
Stop talking. Start biting.
He shoves himself along my mouth, but he’s actually holding my jaw closed. Then he releases me and I lunge and snap down on the chain with all my might. I catch something soft – skin – along with the chain and he grunts in pain, but I’ve only got one chance at this and I bite down harder, feeling that softness give. Cold, teeth-chattering, bone-rattling cold, shoots up into my head. I can’t call fire to counter it, but Earth is my element, and warmth is the heart of Earth. Heat fills my mouth, spills in gritty hot runnels down my cheeks. A tooth splinters and god-awful pain shoots up into my head, but I keep biting down. Finally, with the explosive crack of breaking ice, the chain snaps. A freezing piece falls into the back of my mouth. I spit it out along with fragments of my tooth.
A roaring fills my head. It grows, deafening, maddening, until I’m screaming into it just to keep myself sane. The weight on my right wrist increases. The wrist not encircled by my Dala’s protective bracelets. The bone snaps and I howl with the fresh pain. Then it’s gone. There’s no weight on me, the sound is gone, and I’m rolling, falling, to land in a heap on stiff carpeting. I curl into a ball around the sickening pain in my wrist and head and stomach, sobbing.
“Zee-Zee!” Ro screams. Her scream ends in a crunch. The violent impact of one body slamming into another. I shudder, and curl tighter into myself.
Silence. I expect to hear something. Whimpering. Sucking. Something. But there’s just a long silence. And then footfalls.
You lose a tooth?
Something sharp brushes my nose and I start violently. Curl tighter into a shivering ball. Please leave me alone.
He snorts into my mind. Another footfall. Here’s the other half of it. Well, guess that makes us even, since you took a pretty good chunk outta my scrot.
