The II AM Trilogy Collection

by Christopher Buecheler

  “Is she dead?” Two asked. He shook his head, and indeed, the girl’s eyelids were fluttering now as she fought her way back to consciousness. Theroen waited until she could stand, then looked into her eyes.

  “Go back to your bed and sleep, my dear. This was a dream, and when the sun rises you’ll realize that.”

  The girl turned and made her way unsteadily back to the house. The door clicked shut behind her.

  “Quick, clean – not a drop spilled, and you made her want it in like three seconds. Like I said: the Master at work.” Melissa was smiling in approval.

  “Thank you for your warm appraisal of my work, Melissa.” There was the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice as Theroen turned to face them.

  “Welcome! Shall we go? I’m going to skip the appetizer and head for the city. Find me an all-night rave, go rolling and have dinner. Well, first I want to wash my hands, but after that.”

  “Will you be able to get back to the mansion in time?” Two asked.

  “I’ll find some place to crash in the city. No big deal. Worst-case scenario, New York’s full of little graveyards.” Melissa shrugged, stretched, began walking up the street. Theroen followed and, after a moment of considering how she might feel about sleeping in a graveyard, Two did as well.

  * * *

  A brief moment by the cars where Two thanked Melissa for coming with them, and for being there for her. Melissa smiled, leaned in low, whispered, “I can see why he loves you.” Two was surprised to feel her heart well up at this. She’d known Melissa for so short a time, known Theroen, the man she felt she loved, for no longer. Was such depth of emotion and attachment really possible?

  Theroen, who could pluck these questions from her mind if he felt inclined, said nothing. He left it up to Two to find her answers, and Two loved him all the more for it.

  The ride back was uneventful, if careening through the back roads of southern New York at speeds over double the posted limit could be considered as such. Two felt warm and pleasant, satiated, but without feeling full. She seemed caught in a sort of afterglow, so like the effects of heroin, but clearheaded and awake. Better in every way.

  They reached the mansion well before sunrise. Theroen returned the Ferrari to the garage, and Two left the vehicle with regret. She stood on the driveway, an asphalt circle surrounding a topiary display.

  “I can see my breath.”

  Theroen walked up beside her, nodded. “It’s November, Two.”

  “So why am I not cold?” She glanced down at herself. A pair of thin jeans, cotton shirt, leather jacket; it was not enough to keep a human warm.

  “You won’t feel the elements as much, particularly after you’ve fed. I barely feel them at all anymore.”

  “So I suppose the old ‘I’m cold, let’s go inside and get warm’ line would be pretty transparent then, right?”

  Theroen’s ever-present smile widened to a grin.

  * * *

  He bit her as they joined, tiny pinpricks of pain high up on the neck, away from the main vein, followed by a surge of overwhelming pleasure. It was electric, reaching out from below her waist to touch every extremity of her body. Two moaned, arched her hips, thrust forward. Theroen moved, changed angle, allowing her teeth access to his own neck. Two touched her tongue to the skin, tasted the hint of the blood in his sweat, and bit down. The blood began to flow, and she felt the throb within redouble in intensity.

  Death, life, time. They lay for millennia, for seconds. Two didn’t know, only that she felt herself building and building, always a steady ascent toward some unknown peak. Theroen’s blood was fire in her mouth, waves of power and ecstasy roaring through her in a torrent.

  Her orgasm, when it finally came, was like nothing she had experienced as a human being. Unending, it left her without control of her limbs, powerless and lost against the force of it. Black spots danced before her eyes, and she struggled not to lose consciousness. Theroen seemed gripped by a similar power, body straining against hers for an interminable moment. The pleasure faded slowly, echoed by small jolts that Two thought of as aftershocks.

  She pulled her teeth from Theroen’s neck and fell backwards, gasping for breath. The muscles of her inner thighs were trembling. Her arms felt weak. Theroen lay down beside her, equally exhausted. Two flicked a lock of hair from her eyes and glanced over at him. He was gazing calmly at her, but still panting from exertion. Two smiled.

  “Was it good for you?” she asked, no malice in her sarcasm. Theroen laughed, leaned in, licked the last of the blood from her lips with the tip of his tongue. Two moved closer to him, let that brief touch turn into a longer kiss. She sighed as his hand caressed the swell of her breast.

  “If humans knew it could be like that, Theroen, they’d be lining up in the street to make the change,” she said after they broke apart.

  “You may well be right.”

  Two felt a sudden heaviness in her eyelids and glanced at the window. The sky had begun to show the slightest sign of light.

  “Draw the curtains, Theroen? I won’t be able to keep awake much longer. Will you stay with me?”

  “Of course.”

  Her room, like all of the rooms in the mansion, was equipped with a dual layer of heavy blackout curtains. Theroen stood, unashamed of his body, and pulled the cords. The room went immediately dark. Even Two, with her new eyes, was only able to discern vague shapes, dark forms on a black backdrop, outlined only by the slightest hint of light filtering in from the crack under the door. She felt Theroen return to the bed with her. Another kiss, the aftertaste of blood on his tongue. She lay with her head on his chest.

  “Will I need to feed again tomorrow?”

  “I’ve little doubt. Melissa still feeds daily, and it is relatively rare that I skip an evening.”

  “I want to do it early, then. Get it out of the way.”

  “All right.”

  “Can I get pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure? No baby vampire Theroens and Twos crawling around?”

  Theroen yawned, played with a lock of her hair absently. “Yes, quite sure. It’s been tried, by others of our kind and by myself. Mortal women, half-vampire women, vampire women. None ever conceive. Vampire men, even those still blessed with this ability, don’t create seed. We don’t make children with our bodies, Two. We make them with our blood.”

  “So you’re saying that we’re participating in incest, then? Willing participants, at that?”

  “I try not to think of it like that.” Theroen’s voice was dry, but Two could hear the smile there. She laughed.

  Quiet, for a moment. Two felt sleep nearing; a rolling blackness on the horizon that would soon blot out all consciousness. She fought it. There were so many questions.

  “Who’d you try it with?”

  “A woman. A vampire. I … she’s dead, now.”

  “I thought vampires couldn’t die?”

  “They can’t die. They can be killed.”

  Two wanted to ask more. Wanted to know who this woman was, how she had died, why there was so much pain in Theroen’s voice. Sleep denied her the chance.

  * * *

  In the darkness, Theroen sighed and closed his eyes. The woman next to him, breathing soft and warm against his skin, couldn’t know how hard it was to answer her questions. How difficult it was to think of Lisette.

  It had been nearly three hundred years since he had been with another vampire like this. Mortals, surely. He enjoyed making love to the women he took for nourishment nearly as much as Melissa enjoyed sex with her victims. But another vampire? The feel of her skin, the sinewy strong muscles beneath it, the smell of the blood in her sweat, in her kiss, in her sex. Two was everything Lisette had been, and more perhaps, because it was his role to be her teacher. Lisette had been hundreds of years old when Theroen had met her. He had been the student, then.

  His love for Two, and the differences that separated her from Lisette in his mind, did little to ease the
pain, little to dampen the sorrow, little to drown out the screams.

  * * *

  Theroen was not there when Two awoke. As probably would be the case forever, she suspected, he arose earlier, was forced into sleep later. Two could hear the shower running in the attached bathroom, a mundane sound that made her feel comfortable. At home.

  Two sat up, shivering a bit. The warmth of the blood was long gone, and she longed for it. She understood now what Theroen and Melissa had said. Some of the concepts behind vampirism were perhaps distasteful, but the actual experience was quite the opposite. The blood was all that mattered, and it was beautiful.

  Two got out of bed, opened the heavy maple doors of the wardrobe on the far side of the room, found a nightgown and slippers. She heard a door close outside the room. Curious, Two opened her bedroom door and looked out. The bedrooms opened on the grand chamber, overlooking the main foyer of the mansion. A crystal chandelier, easily twenty feet in diameter, illuminated the area. Below it stood Melissa, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

  “Hi Melissa!” Two called, waving. The dark-haired vampire looked up and bared her teeth.

  “Call me by that bitch’s name again, and I’ll find you some time when your superhero’s not around to protect you. I’ll cut your fucking tits off.”

  Missy, then. Two fought the anger that was rising inside of her. She tried to think of the other woman who occupied the body, the one whose company she had enjoyed the previous night. “Sorry, Missy.”

  Missy stared up at her, an expression of frank disgust on her face. It took Two a moment to realize that it was her nightgown that Melissa was studying. Pink, with lace trim, it was hardly the type of outfit Missy probably preferred.

  “I’m going out to eat and to find something for Tori. Tell Theroen that Abraham wants him. He’ll probably know, but tell him anyway, or I’ll get into deep shit.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Two commented under her breath.

  “Keep it up with the attitude, whore. See how far it gets you.”

  Missy was gone before Two could respond. The shower was no longer running, and she felt Theroen’s presence behind her before he spoke.

  “It’s best not to approach Melissa, unless you’re positive it’s her.” He pulled on a pair of black cargo pants and a white t-shirt.

  “No kidding. Did you hear? About Abraham?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does he want with you?”

  “I couldn’t even attempt to guess. It could be something as simple as moving a piece of artwork he has decided is no longer to his taste.”

  Two thought of the elder vampire, whom she had met only briefly, and shuddered. During the time she had been near him, his strength had been undeniable, rolling off him in waves. Even had this not been the case, she had seen his broad shoulders and strong arms. Certainly he didn’t need Theroen to take care of such things for him.

  “Abraham needs no one. He has me do these tasks because it amuses him. It proves I am still loyal to him. It proves I still serve him.”

  “What will he do when you leave him?”

  Theroen looked at her for a moment, as if the question had never occurred to him. “Survive. Perhaps he’ll attempt to make Melissa do his bidding. I doubt he’ll have much success.”

  “Would she stand up to him? If she can, why don’t you?”

  Theroen smiled, shook his head. “No. Melissa is no more capable of standing up to Abraham than I am. But she is afraid of him, and has less of a stomach for certain tasks he might ask of her. Dealing with her would be more frustration for him than it’s worth. Half of her, anyway. The other half is almost wholly Abraham’s child.”

  “Why doesn’t he use Missy, then?”

  “She is his child, but not his favored child. Their relationship is strained at best, and made all the worse by the fact that she does not own that body. No, Abraham does not favor her.” Theroen grimaced. “That particular honor goes to me.”

  “Is that why you stay with him? Do you owe him? Or is it fear? Can he hurt you?” Two’s questions were not barbed. Theroen heard only honest curiosity in her voice.

  “It’s integral that you understand something: Abraham is more than capable of slaughtering every creature that walks these grounds without even exerting himself. I am powerful. Abraham … is something closer to a god.”

  “But you’re not afraid of him.” This was not a question.

  “No. Not afraid of him and not afraid of what he might do to me. I am afraid, Two, of what he may choose to do to you, should I offend him. That is, to the best of my knowledge, the first thing that has truly frightened me in several hundred years.”

  Two was quiet a moment, head down, considering. She looked up at Theroen. “Who is Lisette?”

  Theroen visibly flinched away from her, eyes widening. He turned his head, but not before Two read what she needed from his expression.

  “Oh,” Two said. “Who was Lisette?”

  “Not now, Two.”

  “Theroen …”

  “Please,” he turned his eyes back toward her, and the look on his face made Two want to take it all back. She wished she had never mentioned the name, wished it had not flashed into her brain in that moment before sleep.

  “Okay, Theroen. I …” She stopped. Theroen sat on the foot of the bed with his elbows on his knees, back bent, hands laced behind his head, staring at the floor. His expression was dark and miserable. Two felt adrenaline flood her system, then depart, leaving her shaky and scared. She had never expected anything like this. She crawled across the bed and stopped, unsure of how to proceed. She touched his shoulder.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Two.” Theroen sounded weary. He did not look up at her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know!” Two felt herself crying.

  Theroen turned to her, wiped a tear from her cheek. “Don’t.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m scared.”

  Theroen smiled at this, kissed her briefly. “Scared?”

  “I don’t understand everything. You haven’t told me everything, and now I hurt you. I don’t even know how I did it. I didn’t know I could. I didn’t think there was anything I could’ve done …”

  Theroen stood up, looked out the window, sighed.

  “Lisette was a vampire. In a very real sense, you owe your present fortune – if you wish to consider it such – to her. She saw the good in me even as I spent my nights bathing in the blood of those I destroyed. She helped me to find the good in myself. And I loved her. I loved her like I love you. I loved her, and I couldn’t save her, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

  * * *

  The girl made the cut below the nipple on her left breast and stood, beckoning. Theroen lounged on overstuffed cushions of velvet, warm from the first kill, ready for the second. She was white cream against the red fabric. Pouting lips, full breasts, dark hair on her head, between her legs. Theroen reached out, took her hand, brought her to him. The girl swooned, falling against him, panting, as he drank from the wound she had inflicted upon herself.

  Her death came with a tiny gasp, and the girl went limp in his arms. Theroen shoved the body away, reclined, reflected. Two of them, and still he was unsatisfied. There could never be enough death. He could drown in a sea of human blood, and it would never be enough.

  A walk, then, and perhaps another victim.

  In the ten years that had passed since his rebirth into darkness, Theroen had learned little of his nature beyond that which was readily evident to him. He would not take instruction from Abraham, and the elder vampire in turn shunned his creation, leaving Theroen to his own devices.

  Theroen knew he was strong. He knew he could read minds with a proficiency that seemed to enrage Abraham. He knew he could make women do terrible things to themselves, and in this last he sometimes took great pleasure.

  There was no God, no devil, no heaven or hell. Lost in a sea of blackness, Theroen let his base instincts run wil
d. Women, always women. He would watch them, his powerful mind compelling them to perform acts of lust and passion upon themselves, upon each other. He would watch, but never join them. For the women from whom he drank, Theroen’s touch meant only death.

  Some went quietly, like the two tonight. Others laughed, wept, screamed, begged. It didn’t matter. How could it? How could anything matter at all when God had so clearly forsaken him? Theroen reveled in debauchery worse than that which had driven him from the church, and it just didn’t matter.

  Someone was watching him. He could sense it, and this presence frightened him. Theroen was unaccustomed to being noticed. His speed and uncanny ability to manipulate the minds of those around him made it an infrequent occurrence. What concerned him most was that he could not throw off this feeling. It pursued him through streets, back alleys, parks, graveyards. He skipped the whorehouse from which he’d been planning to acquire another victim, moved onward, toward the townhouse. Toward Abraham. Toward safety.

  There was something humorous in that concept, that he might turn to Abraham for sanctuary. The vampire elder had all but denounced him, yet blood bonded them. Theroen hated his master. Despised him. Loathed him.

  And yet this fear …

  The presence shifted, and he realized that the feeling of being watched was more than a mere tingle at the back of the neck. It was spatial. It had depth. He felt the presence overtake him at a frightening speed. There was a short moment of paralyzing terror, and then it moved onward, in front of him now, yet still focused on him in some way.

  From the shadows there was laughter like silver bells on a sheet of glass. The woman stepped out from the doorway of a cathedral. Black hair, pale white skin and oceanic green eyes. Theroen felt himself lost and drowning in those eyes, and looked away, snarling.

  “Do you fear everything you don’t understand?” Her accent was French.

  “I fear nothing.” A lie, perhaps. His fright was replaced with the hot flush of humiliation. Theroen was glad for this. Of the two, he preferred the latter.