Tempted to stop and see what progress the workers had made in renovating the place, he decided to continue on, for he had lost precious time in his encounter with the young woman.
Shortly after his transformation centuries ago, he'd bought up plots of land in Avador, with the little money he'd saved as an apothecary in his mortal life, this at a time when land was cheap. Over the years and centuries, the value of the land had increased, enabling him to sell the land at a profit and buy up more acreage. By now, he had amassed a fortune, his gold transferred to a safe in his new house. Yet he would soon have to move again, as he had so many times over the centuries. He couldn't stay in one place for any length of time, while the mortals grew old and he remained eternally young.
Minutes later, Gaderian reached Moytura and approached the main city stable on the southern edge of the city, the pungent smell of the stable tickling his nostrils from a block away. He left his horse at the stone stable and tossed a copper coin to the sleepy stable boy, after giving instructions for the care and feeding of the stallion. Past the many shops, a walk of several blocks led him to the Snow Leopard. Like most taverns and inns in the city, the tavern stayed open until the late night hours. He pulled at the iron handle on the heavy oaken door and stepped inside, greeted by the yeasty aroma of ale and the smoke of countless pipes. Stained glass windows lined one wall, the colors indistinguishable in the semi-darkness. Oil lamps attached to iron chains hung from the ceiling, casting faint light and shadows on the room. A buzz of conversation and laughter filled the air in the main dining room with more than twenty round tables. Here and there, a patron sat by himself, eating a very late meal, but most customers indulged in talking and drinking, or playing dice.
He stood at the entrance for several moments, his gaze roaming the dark room, cloudy with pipe smoke, until he found the friend he had come to meet. Weaving his way among the tables, he reached the man at the far side of the room. He eased out a chair and sat down.
"Why so late?" Egan asked. Shorter than Gaderian, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked young and innocent, his baby face belying his recent occupation as a professional soldier before his transformation. "If you stay here too long, the sunlight will find you. That's a chance I never take."
"Nor I." Gaderian shrugged. "I intend to leave soon. A distraction detained me." He decided not to relate his encounter with the young lady, for there was scant chance they would ever meet again, a prospect that depressed his spirits, for reasons he feared to examine.
Egan raised his mug to his mouth and drank. "We're both taking a chance by coming to this tavern. If anyone should suspect what we are . . ." He raised his eyebrows but said no more, his meaning clear.
"And it's only because of the dull light in here that no one suspects what we are. If we stayed out in the bright sunlight–Otherworld forbid!–people would know we belong to the undead. And the sunlight would burn us to ashes." Gaderian gestured to a waitress to indicate that he wanted ale also. "Sorry I have no money with me," he said to his companion. "How about lending me the money this time, and I'll pay next time." After Egan placed the coins on the table, Gaderian continued, "As for your comment—I intend to so something about that danger, no matter how long it takes or the obstacles I must overcome. Other creatures are killing the mortals and making it look as if the vampires are committing the murders. And we know what creatures. Damned bandregas! I'd like to kill them all." His mouth tightened, a muscle jerking in his jaw.
"A process I don't understand, how the bandregas can make it look as if the vampires are killing."
"Easy enough to understand. The bite of a bandrega itself is poison to a mortal. Kills them instantly, like snake venom. Can even sicken the undead, at least for a few days. Then the bandregas drain all the blood from the humans, so that the mortals think we are doing the murders. All these years we've built up trust among the mortals–now gone–" He snapped his fingers–"just like that! Before these murders, we were at least tolerated among the humans. And we never killed any mortals for sustenance, just took only what we needed. At least, I never killed any humans. I hope that is true of the other undead, also." Anger heated his blood. The bandregas were powerful creatures, cunning, too, who could assume human features and human ways, although they were actually demons with sharp features and claws. Where did they get their power? How were they able to practice black magic? Just as important, how did they make themselves look human? He'd give anything to know.
"Deceitful creatures, the bandregas. Over the years, they've led the mortals to believe they gradually disappeared, going to other countries." He shook his head. "But they are still among us, like a poisonous weed. Like poison."
Egan blew out a long breath ... "And what about the price on our heads, rewards for turning us in?" Even in the dim light, his face showed red with fury.
Gaderian clenched his hands on the table. "Those who are captured are killed with a stake through their heart."
Egan paused. "But are we absolutely sure it's not the vampires who are killing the humans?"
Before replying, Gaderian waited while the waitress set a mug of ale on the table. She scooped up the coins and dropped them in her apron pocket. He lifted the mug to his mouth, revelling in the cool liquid that soothed his dry throat. "This was before your time as a vampire, but several centuries ago, the Guild of the Undead ruled that we would prey only on criminals and take no more blood than we needed. At the same time, we pledged to the mortals that we would protect them against the bandregas."
Absently, he traced an indentation on the wooden table, initials carved by a long ago patron. "You have no idea the distress those bandregas caused the humans–stealing their young and ravishing the women. So for the longest time, we have protected the humans against these evil creatures by killing them, chasing the bandregas away." He lifted his hands. "Now look what's happened. The bandregas far outnumber us. Now they are killing the humans, and the humans blame the murders on us. Worse still, the humans think the bandregas disappeared long ago. The mortals don't know that these creatures still exist, here among us. And don't forget, these creatures can apply the glamour, making them look like mortals, instead of the beasts that they are." He had to defeat the bandregas, had to! He had failed in his endeavors too many times in the past, and always the feeling had dwelt within him that he must do something worthwhile in his life.
Egan drained his mug. "What do you intend to do about this situation, or do you intend to do nothing?"
Gaderian leaned closer and spoke with resolution. "Oh, I intend to do something, believe me. I aim to gain control of the Guild of the Undead. Our present leader is feckless, can't do a Goddess-damned thing to rid us of this menace. Don't think I haven't heard complaints from other of our kind. And I intend to defeat the bandregas," he said, slashing his hand through the air. "Get rid of them once and for all."
* * *
As daylight changed from gray to blue and touched the hills and valleys with a golden glow, Gaderian rushed back to his cave. The young woman lay where he'd left her, fast asleep, turned on her side, her hand under her right cheek. Fianna, such a pretty name. Silently, he stared at her for a long time as wishes and desires taunted him, yearnings for a mortal woman he thought he'd discarded centuries ago. The low cut of her shift revealed full breasts, the nipples pressing against the fabric. He studied the curve of her hips, her long legs drawn up close to her body, her slim ankles and feet. Passion stirred inside him, a yearning to take her in his arms and make love to her 'til they both lay panting and breathless. Countless desires pulsed through him, like a thousand beating hearts. After several moments, he sighed and walked on, telling himself once more that there could never be anything between them.
He gingerly eased his way back into the cool cavern, pressing his hand against the limestone as water dripped from overhead. His keen nighttime vision enabled him to detect the sharp dips and drops in the cave's interior. Minutes later, he reached the place he claimed as his own and se
ttled down on the hard, rocky ground. He changed his position again and again as sharp stones gouged into his back. He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him, for too many thoughts nudged his mind. Shifting his position one more time, he looked forward to the night he could reclaim his own residence and sleep in the cellar, where no sunlight would find him. He surrendered to his insomnia and let his mind drift back to a time, centuries ago, when his life had changed forever, when life as he knew it had transmuted to the life he enjoyed now, an immortality with no fear of death. His thoughts wandered, his reflections centered on the woman he had once loved. He could remember it all so clearly, as if it had happened only yesterday. . . .
Allowed a few moments alone with Maeve, Gaderian stood with her in the shadow of a massive oak tree. Here in her family's spacious garden, he tried to take her hand, but she drew back, turning her head away from him. Oaks, elms, and willows surrounded them, the scent of night-blooming jasmine drifting on a light breeze. A few yards away, her family's mansion dominated the land, a splendid home with tall pillars and wide windows, set on a well-manicured lawn, graced with flowering bushes.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed up at him. "Best we not even touch each other. There can never be anything between us, so the sooner we accept that fact, the better."
"But why?" His heart was breaking.
"We knew from the beginning there could be no future for us. These stolen moments between us–that my father only recently discovered since one of the villagers told on us–that's all they can be, Gaderian. Stolen moments. My father wants me to marry someone else."
Fury raged inside him. He clenched his hands at his side, his fingernails gouging his skin. "Culann McCabe!"
She nodded. "Just so."
"For his money!" Goddess, he wanted to kill McCabe!
She twisted her hands together. "If only it were different. If only . . ." She stared at the ground.
He waved his hand. "You don't need to say it. If only I were wealthy, instead of an apothecary." He wanted to shake her. "Don't you have a mind of your own? Listen, Maeve! We can run away together, to Galdina or Elegia, any place far from our village, where no one knows us. We can marry, start a new life together. Tonight! I will meet you tonight outside your window, after your family has fallen asleep–"
"No." She spoke brokenly. "No matter what, I love and respect my parents. It would hurt them too much if I left them."
"And me? Don't you think you are hurting me? My darling, you are tearing me apart. Please, let's–"
"Maeve!" Her father's voice carried from the front porch of their mansion. "You've spent enough time with the apothecary. You must come in now. Tell the laborer goodbye and that is the end of it."
"Goodbye, dear Gaderian," she whispered, and ran from him.
He wanted to call her back, beg, do anything to have her as his own. He cursed his poverty, the job that had once given him such pride. Now grief settled over him like a heavy weight, a sorrow that would accompany him throughout life. Stifling his tears, he turned away to trudge home, back to his lonely cottage. He wished he could die, end his life this very minute. He made a vow. Never again would he give his heart to any woman
"Gaderian!"
He spun around, his gaze searching the trees.
"Gaderian!" A woman stepped out from behind an oak, a strong rose scent clinging to her. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, with blonde hair so light it shone like silver, and the most luscious body he'd ever beheld, molded inside a black satin gown with a deep decolletage.
After several tries, he managed to speak. "How do you know my name? And who are you?"
She smiled, her dimples showing. "My name is Moreen. And how do I know yours? I followed you here, although of course, you didn't see me."
"Spying on me! You had no right." Sorrow over Maeve clashed with present confusion. "But why?"
"Umm." She tilted her head, as if thinking. "Maybe I get lonely at times."
"Lonely? A beautiful woman like you? But I still don't understand. Why did you come here, at this particular place? I've never seen you before."
"But I've seen you. Let's just say that nighttime is my time, and I go wherever I want, wherever my inclination leads me." She smiled winsomely. "And my inclination led me to you."
He stepped back, resolved to head home. "Well, find someone else, then, because I don't need your company." He wanted only to go home and try to sleep, try to forget Maeve, though he feared her memory would haunt him for the rest of his life. Tears clotted his throat, and he wondered how he could ever put her from his mind. Misery enclosed him, a long, painful torment that stretched for years ahead, until he died. He wanted to die now.
Lightly, she touched his arm. "Gaderian, I can show you a whole new life, a life that has no end."
He snickered. "And I can show you a fortune in gold." He chuckled, a sound he feared might soon degenerate into a sob. "So you are promising me immortality."
"Why, yes, that is exactly what I offer you." She stared into his eyes, and he couldn't have looked away if all the gold in the kingdom was strewn at his feet. Her own eyes captivated him, as if he had no will of his own. She leaned closer and licked his neck, her rose scent washing over him, strong and sweet. He felt a sharp bite, but still he couldn't move, could only surrender to the sweet lassitude that consumed him. Their bodies touching, she eased him to the ground with her, hidden by overhanging branches of oaks and willows. Pausing for a moment, she looked into his eyes, giving him a chance to draw back, to end his transmutation. But oh! he didn't want to stop this wonderful experience, this beautiful throbbing that pulsed through his body. Rapture flowed through him, a bliss too great to forego, an ecstasy beyond imagination. Everything around him looked so beautiful, as if it were daylight. The stars shone a thousand times brighter, and even the breeze sounded like music in his ears. The scent of night-blooming jasmine became the most exquisite perfume, blending with the fragrance of grass and trees, and over everything, her aroma of roses.
Before sunlight touched the land, before they headed for Moreen's residence in a vault deep underground, he knew his life had changed forever. Despite a lingering sorrow over Maeve, he gloried in his new immortality. His grief eventually disappeared, replaced by a resolve to live his new life to the fullest. Not once had he looked back
Chapter Three
"She's not there, sir."
After admitting the servant into his study, Kelvin Connor exchanged a look with Angus Kendall, the latter having come to discuss business. Connor drummed his fingers on his oaken desk, fighting to control his temper. "Not at her brother's? Did you ask him if he knew where she went?"
"Yes, sir. He has no idea." The servant paused. "I checked other places in Sligo, sir, inns and such. No one there knows her or anything of her."
Connor nodded in dismissal. "Very well. That's all for now. I may call on you later."
The servant left, and Connor exchanged another look with Angus Kendall. A wide multi-paned window admitted refracted light into the large room, where book-filled shelves lined each wall, books Connor freely acknowledged he'd bought to impress visitors. A sheepskin rug stretched the length of the floor, dyed purple to match the draperies at the window.
In another chair close by the desk, Kendall sipped his wine and set the glass down. "In all frankness, you should have foreseen that Fianna could easily escape by descending the ivy along the wall." Tall and thin, he had the look of a bookish scholar, instead of a ruthless mine owner.
"How?" Connor asked, trying to stifle his irritation with the other man. "I never realized it would hold a grown person's weight. But that's beside the point now." He raked his fingers through his hair. "My stepdaughter is gone and we don't know where."
Kendall took another sip of wine, his bland expression preventing discernment of his thoughts. "To the capital." He brushed a drop of wine from his linen tunic and gave Kelvin Connor a look of certainty.
"Moytura?" Connor shook his he
ad. "Miles from here. Almost a nineday away. I can't believe she would go that far."
Angus lifted his hands. "Then where? Easy to get lost in a city that size. Sounds logical to me."
Connor pounded his fist on the desk. "All along, I've underestimated her. Should have realized she's not like her mother." He snorted. "Evelina, my submissive wife." He sighed and shook his head. "I'll have to send more servants out, do anything to get her back. And when I do . . ." Although the threat remained unspoken, his meaning was clear.
"Not when you find her, but when I do."
Connor jerked his head up. "What?"
"Listen." Kendall spoke, a crafty look on his face. "I know several men who are quite skilled in finding missing persons, or shall we say, people who have fled for one reason or another. I'll put them on her trail, and I'll wager you one of them will find her within a nineday. I'll send each one in a different direction–north, south, east, and west. One of them is bound to find her."
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