Real Vampires: When Glory Met Jerry

by Gerry Bartlett

  Jeremiah touched my neck and growled. Yes, growled.

  “Robert MacDonald is not for you, Gloriana. I saw the way you looked him over. Aye, he has a way with the ladies. But he would use you then toss you aside.”

  “And you will not?” I drank deeply though the wine was nasty tasting. The truth of that was enough to make me want to drown my thoughts in spirits. This was the path I’d chosen. I didn’t look at the man by my side. I couldn’t read minds like he seemed to, but the truth was inescapable. I was a mistress who would be useful for the short term. I’d never be considered for marriage again. I would be wise to accept that and make the most of my situation. I turned to him.

  “Sapphires. Yes, that would be lovely.” I leaned into Jeremiah’s side and smiled up at him, regretting my churlish comment already. I couldn’t afford to show any resentment toward my protector. Instead, I had to hope he gave me many jewels and that I could save for my future. Because that was the only security I’d have now.

  A family? I had to forget that dream. I needed to see one of the women in the theater to find out how to make sure an accident didn’t make me a harlot with a child to raise on my own. That would be the saddest tale of all. Perhaps Master Shakespeare could write a play about it. I drained my cup and held it out to be filled again.

  Luckily Jeremiah didn’t seem to be interested in my bitter thoughts. He was too focused on his enemy who was making his bow before the king. So I sipped my wine and did my best to keep despair at bay. I had one of the most handsome men at court next to me. And I was clean, well-fed and dressed in the finest dress I had ever owned. I pasted on a brilliant smile when Jeremiah finally remembered to turn to me. When he announced we could leave, I was happy to see Fergus with our cloaks.

  As we climbed into the waiting carriage, I wasn’t surprised when Jeremiah turned to me, hungry for my body. Yes, that was my role here. I put aside my worries and went into his arms gladly. When he tossed my skirts up to my waist and took me right there as we drove through the streets, I wondered if he was trying to prove something. That he owned me? That MacDonald could never have me? No matter. He was rough and yet he gave me pleasure, swallowing my scream of completion with his mouth on mine.

  He pulled down my skirt and straightened my bodice before he sat across from me, his kilt smooth as he moved his sporran, what he called the fancy leather pouch he’d worn to court, back from his hip to the center.

  “Are you all right, Gloriana?”

  “Of course.” I reached up to push back an errant curl. “Are you? I see why you hate MacDonald. He taunts you.”

  “I will tell you the full story someday.” He looked away. “I am sorry if I made you feel ill-used.”

  “There is no need to apologize, Jeremiah. I am new to this, but I will learn my place.” I reached out to touch his knee covered by that fine wool. “Please be patient with me if I make demands that are not right for someone of my station. I have never been a mistress before.”

  “I like that you are passionate and speak your mind. Don’t turn into one of those simpering women with no thoughts but how to wheedle another dress or jewels from me.” He pulled me across the coach to sit in his lap. “We will figure out this relationship together, shall we?”

  “Thank you.” I kissed his chin, then his lips. I was so lucky. I had seen many of the men at Whitehall treat their women like ornaments. Cold-eyed men. And some of the women had looked fearful. I prayed I would never have to settle for such a protector. But who knew what the future would hold for me? I needed to quit thinking about anything but the present or I would go mad. I must enjoy what I had. So I slid my hand under that fine wool kilt. Oh, yes, Jeremiah liked my touch. And I’d made that naughty promise at the king’s court.

  So, as the coach bumped along, I dropped to my knees and did something I’d never done before. Did I please my man? If his groans meant anything, I believe I did.

  Chapter Six

  When the coach finally shuddered to a stop, Jeremiah grinned at me. He had certainly had a fine time and seemed almost reluctant to leave it, but held out his hand for me get down when Fergus opened the door.

  “What’s this?” Jeremiah glanced around as I carefully took the step with his help then held my cape together against the chill night air. “You didn’t take us close to our door.” It was dark, torches from the corner casting little light as the coach rumbled away.

  “We canna go home yet. We’ve been followed from Whitehall.” Fergus stood nearby, his hand on a cudgel as if prepared for footpads. “We have more to walk once we’ve dealt with these brigands.” He nodded at a pair of men coming toward us. “Look.”

  “Gloriana, step into that doorway.” Jeremiah pulled out his sword.

  I hurried to do his bidding. What was this? Why was he constantly beset by men trying to harm him? Then I heard him call a name and recognized the light haired man who now pulled his own sword.

  “Are we really going to fight with such puny instruments?” Robert MacDonald laughed and tossed his sword to the man beside him. “Come, Campbell. Meet me man to man as we are meant to fight.”

  Jeremiah threw his sword to Fergus who caught it with a curse.

  “You’re mad, both of you. Remember where you are.” Fergus glanced at me. “And who you’re with.”

  “You’ve not told the lass yet? Such a lovely blood whore. I will enjoy her once I’ve ripped out your throat.” Robert leaped with a snarl. He was met by Jeremiah in what seemed to be midair.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. Fangs. The men had suddenly grown long, enormous teeth that made their faces change into masks of hatred. They clashed with snarls and murderous intent, determined to tear each other apart. Curses filled the air as they fell to the stones, ripping clothes and pounding each other with their fists. They rolled in the filth of the street and blood splashed the ground.

  It was Bran, cousin to Fergus, who had arrived with MacDonald. He now stared at Fergus and they seemed to come to some silent agreement not to interfere.

  “Make them stop! They will kill each other.” I pulled at Fergus’s sleeve.

  “Nay, lass. ’Tis an old quarrel between them. They won’t thank us for pulling them apart.” Fergus pushed me behind him. He made it clear a mere woman had no say in it.

  But when MacDonald ripped a hole in Jeremiah’s shoulder with those ungodly teeth and blood streamed from what surely would be a mortal wound, I couldn’t be still and rushed forward. “He will surely bleed to death! Fergus, please!”

  Fergus clamped his arms around me. “No, lass, it’s not as grave as it looks. This is something they must do. I hope to God I don’t have to carry Jeremiah’s body home to the Laird when they are done.”

  “Then stop this, please.” I was sobbing. Their teeth were so horrifying and dangerous. Robert’s neck was bleeding and one eye had been torn and was swollen shut. How did he see to keep going? Then Jeremiah… One arm hung limply at his side, the bone obviously broken. But still he fought, landing a vicious kick that made Robert scream with rage and double over.

  “I cannot interfere. Nor can Bran.” Fergus pushed me back when the men fell close to us.

  “They’re killing each other!” It seemed like a river of blood pooled under them and I stuffed a fist in my mouth to keep from distracting Jeremiah with my cries. Robert had ripped away that lovely jacket and had his fangs locked on my lover’s shoulder, shaking him as Jeremiah held onto Robert’s hair and banged his head against the stones.

  “Horses are coming! Stop this. We will be found out.” Fergus gestured and Bran moved in to help him tear the men apart. It wasn’t easy.

  I gagged when I saw Robert’s mouth dripping blood, his fangs wet with it. He panted, his one open eye wild with hatred.

  “Let me finish him!” He screamed and desperately tried to wrest free from Bran’s grip. But he was clearly weakened by blood loss from a dozen wounds.

  “As if you could.” Jeremiah staggered, still straining against Fergus who he
ld him, both arms around him.

  “Look you, a coach is coming. Change and be gone. Or are you too weak for it, MacDonald?” Fergus taunted him though I didn’t understand it.

  Robert’s answer was a screech and then he disappeared. In his place a falcon fluttered, then flew off into the night. Bran soon followed. Or what had been Bran. He’d become a bird as well, a hawk. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I’d gone mad. How much wine had I drunk at the king’s castle? Was I now in bed, dreaming?

  “Gloriana, your cloak.” Fergus held out his hand.

  I hurried from where I’d stood staring at what I couldn’t believe and pulled off my cape. Fergus wrapped it around Jeremiah and pushed us together, out of the way of the coach-and-four rumbling toward us. The driver pulled up just in time to keep from running us down.

  “What’s this?” A man I recognized as a lord we’d spoken to at Whitehall leaned out of the coach window. “Is aught amiss here?”

  “Footpads, my lord.” Fergus nodded in a semblance of a bow. “Master Campbell drove them off but he took a hard hit to the head. Nothing to worry about. We’re just steps from home.”

  “I can take you up. I will send for my physician.” The lord frowned at the way Jeremiah leaned against the wall, propped up by his servant. Jeremiah never spoke nor raised his head. “He may need to be bled.”

  “Not necessary, but thank ye, sire.” Fergus bobbed again. “Aye, here we are at our door. All he needs is his bed. Isn’t that so, mistress?” He looked at me to say something.

  I sensed his desperation and couldn’t ignore it. I stepped up to the coach. “Yes, yes. Of course. Lord Summers, you are too kind.” I leaned closer, letting my low bodice do what words could not. “Truth be told, the footpads had not reckoned with Jeremiah’s skills with a sword and ran away quickly, bleeding and afraid for their lives.” I touched the lord’s hand. “Oh, one of them may have landed a lucky blow, but I think what my man is feeling now are the effects of too much wine.” I laughed.

  “I don’t recall seeing him touch the wine.” The lord frowned.

  “You were much too busy with the king, I’m sure, to pay attention to a simple Scotsman and his mistress.” Oh, no, this man wasn’t as unobservant as I’d hoped. He frowned at the stain on the stones but it was dark and impossible to tell whether it was blood or merely some household’s night soil. I took the kind of deep breath that I hadn’t dared before in the low cut dress. As I’d feared, my breasts lost the struggle and popped free. It was enough to distract the lord from the sight of Jeremiah clearly about to fall to the ground. I let my hands flutter over them in my “distress” and that got his eyes where I wanted them.

  “Oh, I certainly noticed you, my dear. Who would not? Campbell’s mistress. Gloria, was it?” He smiled.

  “Gloriana.”

  I bit back a gasp when he boldly reached for my breast and ran his cold and clammy hand over it. Dear God.

  “His majesty is always bragging about how a Scot can drink any man under the table. I will have to tell him I saw one of his own the worse for wine this night.”

  “Oh, please, sir. Do not tell anyone that he came away from the castle tipsy. It was my fault. I made Jeremiah stay too long at the palace, so eager was I to see all the courtiers in their finery. It was not his choice to stay so he drank to ease his boredom.” I glanced back at Jeremiah, as if to make sure he wasn’t watching us, then covered the lord’s hand with mine. “I am new at this, still learning how to please my protector.” I sighed, then looked up at Summers through my lashes. “I don’t want to make Jeremiah angry.”

  “I suppose I could stay quiet.” He roughly pinched one of my nipples, watching my face to see if I liked it. “As a favor to a pretty lady.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming when he moved to the other breast, giving my nipple a brutal twist. “My lord!” I gasped. “You are too kind.”

  “Not at all. But I can be generous. This neck should be adorned with jewels, I think. Remember that when Campbell tires of you.” He held a cane in one hand, the top of it a silver ram’s head. He ran it over my chest then up to my throat, smiling when I swallowed nervously against the chill metal. “Yes, you would suit me, I think.”

  “You flatter me, my lord.” I forced myself to stay still when I wanted to run away screaming.

  “Mistress Gloriana, the master needs to find his bed.” Fergus dared speak up.

  “I know it. One moment.” I carefully pushed the lord’s hand from my breast and his cane from my face. The thought of what else he might do with that ebony stick made me sick to my stomach. Oh, yes, I had heard tales at the theater of cruelty in the bedchamber by those of his tastes.

  “Thank you, my lord. And I will stay quiet as well. These Scotsmen have unsteady tempers and the ear of King Jamie. It would not do to let one know that another man had handled his property carelessly. Jeremiah Campbell is a master swordsman, even when the worse for wine.” I backed away from the coach. It was all I could do not to wipe his filthy touch from my chest with my lace handkerchief. To my relief the lord just smiled and hit the roof of his coach with that cane. It lurched into motion down the lane.

  “Well played, Gloriana.” Fergus hefted Jeremiah into his arms.

  “At least he’s moved on.” I doubted he could have seen exactly what I’d let the lord do to me in the coach window as I stuffed my breasts back into my bodice. Or perhaps he had and didn’t care as long as I’d successfully distracted the man so that his master was left alone.

  “He’s fallen into a faint. I don’t like it. We still have a ways to walk. Straight ahead, if you will.” Fergus nodded and I started out.

  I was cold in my beautiful dress without my cloak. I looked back at that dark pool of blood on the stones. Would Jeremiah die from his wounds? I hurried, rubbing my arms and following Fergus’s directions until we were at our door. He had me pull his key from the pouch at his waist while he held Jeremiah in his arms like a babe. It was remarkable that he could carry such a weight.

  But then I was learning that there were many things about these men I didn’t understand. They had strength that was unnatural and could do things that made me doubt my sanity. Birds. Surely I had imagined… No, I’d seen what I had seen. But how could that happen? And then there were those horrible fangs—lethal, appearing and disappearing at will it seemed.

  “Stand back, Gloriana.” Fergus laid Jeremiah on his bed then efficiently stripped him and examined his wounds.

  “I can heat some water and bring you clean cloths to bathe the wounds.” I hurried out of the room and put the kettle over the fire. I wouldn’t risk this fine dress and grabbed one of Jeremiah’s shirts left next to the bathtub. I pulled off my petticoats and that dress with its tight bodice before finally slipping the shirt over my head. I didn’t care if Fergus saw me like this. He seemed to be immune to my allure, if you could call it that. And he certainly had more on his mind right now than staring at my legs showing from the knees down under that cotton shirt.

  “Here.” I took a bowl of hot water and a pile of cloths to him.

  Fergus frowned down at several very bad tears in Jeremiah’s skin that still oozed blood. The one on his shoulder was the worst. You could see the bone beneath a gaping hole where MacDonald’s enormous teeth had torn away the skin. The arm that had been broken looked straight again, so Fergus must have already snapped it back into place. I couldn’t imagine the pain that would have caused. It was a good thing that Jeremiah had slept through it.

  I swallowed and dipped a cloth in the water, crawling on the bed to wipe away blood from Jeremiah’s face. He didn’t move or seem to breathe. How could that be? I gathered my courage and wiped his lips, peeking at his teeth. Where were his fangs now, those horrid sharp things that had done such damage during the fight? But his teeth were as ordinary as my own.

  “He needs your help, Gloriana.” Fergus’s voice was rough.

  I looked at him and, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was near tea
rs. “There is much I don’t understand here, Fergus. How can Jeremiah be a man one moment and a monster the next?”

  “There’s no time to explain things now. I wish…” Fergus cleared his throat. “He’s been kind to you, Gloriana. Please trust me when I say he needs you this night.”

  I took a shaky breath. Trust? After what I’d seen? But I’d come to no harm in spite of the violence mere feet away from me. There was no denying that Jeremiah seemed on the verge of death. I couldn’t bear it.

  “I’m trying to help. Is there something else I can do? I’ll watch him while you fetch a doctor. Or I’m not a great hand at it but I can see these wounds will need stitching. Do you have thread and a needle? I can try…” I certainly hated the idea of putting a needle through Jeremiah’s skin. And that one huge hole in his shoulder… there wasn’t enough skin left to pull taut no matter how much thread I used. Oh, God, but I was going to be sick.

  I wrung out the cloth, the water turning pink, and washed blood from his forehead. The men had pounded each other against the stones. I ran my hands through his hair and felt a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head. No wonder he didn’t wake.

  “He needs your blood, Gloriana.” Fergus whispered the words, as if he didn’t want Jeremiah to hear them.

  “What?” I remembered then what Robert MacDonald had called me. Jeremiah’s blood whore. What did that mean? “A physician would bleed him, cup him or use a leech. I never like to see that. And he has lost so much blood already. Look how pale he is, Fergus.” I touched Jeremiah’s cheek, rough with the beginning of an evening beard, then ran my fingers over his soft dark eyebrows and his closed eyes with their long eyelashes. Tears pricked my own eyes and I had to blink them back. Falling on his chest sobbing wouldn’t help matters. But, oh, I wanted to do that very thing. I barely knew this man but I didn’t want him to die. He’d saved me from starving and shown me more caring than anyone else had in more than a year.