The II AM Trilogy Collection

by Christopher Buecheler

  “My church … would have me believe those creatures have no soul, lady.”

  “Your church would also have you believe that a man and a priest tempted into making advances upon his student also has no soul, would it not? Or at least, no soul worthy of salvation.”

  Theroen grimaced. “That it would.”

  “You see the world, the church, Abraham and Father Leopold in black and white, Theroen. There are so very many shades you do not see. You have been trained to look past them. Did Leopold not do good in his life?”

  Theroen considered this. After some time, he nodded. The man had, indeed, performed more good deeds than Theroen could possibly count.

  “Is that good invalidated by his carnal desires?”

  “Yes. No, I … Madam, I do not know.”

  “You may call me Lisette, Theroen.”

  “We’ve only just met …”

  Lisette laughed again, held more tightly to his arm, looked at him with her green eyes. “My young priest, I have been watching you for two years.”

  Theroen’s mind looked back over the things he had done, or made mortals do for him, in the past few years. He tried to push these thoughts away. Lisette’s lips brushed his ear. “Why fight? Accept. Understand. My dear, you’re a very creative vampire! You’ve exposed many young ladies to the true pleasures of the flesh … something this horribly repressed society might never have allowed them. More amazing, you’ve done it without knowing those pleasures yourself. Is it so wrong that you’ve shown them these things?”

  “I did it out of hate.”

  “Hate for them?”

  “No, not for them.”

  “Then for whom?”

  “For myself. For what I am, what I allowed myself to become.”

  “There is no reason to hate yourself, Theroen. You must understand that.”

  Theroen shook his head, bewildered. “Lady – Lisette – everything you say flies in the face of what I have known my entire life.”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you understand?”

  “I am trying.”

  Lisette shrugged. “Then all is well. Rome was not built in a day.”

  “That may be true. I … where are we going?”

  They had moved away from the crowded streets, toward a part of the city that lay mostly in darkness. Lisette guided him along the cobblestone pathways, unerring, sure of her destination.

  “My home, naturally.”

  “Why?”

  A small smile, nothing more.

  * * *

  They were greeted at the door by a young girl, maybe sixteen, pale with honey-colored hair and large grey eyes. A small, upturned nose, pink bow lips. Not a vampire. Theroen raised his eyebrows at this, but Lisette simply smiled her little smile, and nodded to the girl.

  “Naomi.”

  “Welcome home, mistress. Welcome, good sir.” The girl stepped aside, and Lisette led Theroen into a small, comfortably furnished room. A fire burned in a marble hearth on one end. Small couches were arranged in a semicircle on the other. Through a door to his left, Theroen saw a doorway leading to a dining room. To his right, a hall, leading most likely to bedrooms.

  “This is Theroen. Theroen, Naomi. She is my companion.”

  “You keep a human companion?” Theroen asked. He was trying hard not to look at the girl, trying not to sense the blood in her veins.

  “I do. It is not unusual for Ashayt vampires to spend their time with humans, or even to live with them. Naomi tends the house, and in exchange I drink from her, on occasion.”

  Naomi, standing in the corner, said nothing, only smiled. Her eyes were on the floor. Theroen glanced at her, then back at Lisette. “You can do that?”

  “Certainly. Human beings heal, Theroen. Have you never cut yourself?”

  Theroen shrugged. It had never occurred to him. He turned and addressed Naomi directly. “You … enjoy this?”

  “I live to serve my mistress.” Naomi’s tone was questioning. She seemed surprised that Theroen found this unusual.

  “Liar.” There was mischief in Lisette’s voice. She touched Theroen’s arm, gaining his attention. “She lives for the pleasure.”

  “To serve my mistress … and for the pleasure,” Naomi admitted after a moment, a light blush touching her cheeks.

  “Naomi has never given blood to a man, Theroen. Would you like to drink from her?”

  Theroen considered this. “I’m afraid I might kill her. I have never left prey alive.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened. Lisette laughed. “You will do no such thing. Naomi is not your prey. She is my attendant. Or perhaps my soubrette. Sit down, Theroen.”

  She beckoned to the couch. Theroen sat, feeling confused and out of place. Lisette, to his right, motioned for Naomi, and the girl sat down to his left. He could hear her heartbeat, quicker than normal.

  “You’re frightened of me.”

  “No, milord.”

  “No lies, Naomi.” Lisette’s voice was soft. Naomi blushed again.

  “A bit, perhaps.”

  “He’ll not kill you, Naomi. You have my promise. Theroen is Eresh-Chen He is perfectly capable of restraining himself. This is not so different from giving me the blood, though you may find it … more immediately gratifying.”

  “Are there differences?” Theroen asked Lisette.

  She curled her hand around his, leaned her head in close. Theroen could feel the push of her breasts against his arm. “Are there differences in the pleasures men give women, and those that women give each other, Theroen?”

  “I would not know, milady.”

  “Lisette.”

  “Lisette, I know not.”

  “Ah, that is unfortunate, and we will change it soon enough, my young priest. Drink. There is no reason to get Naomi so excited for nothing.”

  Theroen looked at the girl. Naomi breathed deeply, returning his gaze with eyes that betrayed both nervousness and a small, burning desire. She arched her head to the side, and Theroen could see the beat of her heart below the flesh of her neck and felt himself consumed by a sudden, tremendous need. He leaned his head in close, kissed the spot, felt her heat below his lips. Naomi sighed.

  Theroen felt Lisette’s grip on his hand change, moving it to Naomi’s breast. He cradled it, moved his thumb across it, felt her erect nipple below the fabric of her gown. Naomi gasped, moved her head, put her lips on Theroen’s, wrapped her arms around him.

  For the first time in his existence, Theroen Anders let himself kiss a woman in passion. He felt her warmth against him, beating heart, shared breath, fire in the touch of her lips. Her tongue, small and insistent, pressed, turned the kiss warm and damp. He responded instinctively, biting down slightly. Naomi winced a moment, then kissed harder, and Theroen tasted her blood, hot in his mouth.

  Lisette’s hand guided his. Naomi’s legs lay slightly apart, and Theroen slid her skirts up. He found bare skin underneath, ran a finger along one smooth thigh. Naomi adjusted her position, mouth still locked to Theroen’s, opened herself to him. Theroen felt the brush of hair at his fingertips, and then only heat, and wet. Naomi made a noise in her throat, pushed her hips forward, continued their kiss. Lisette’s lips were at his ear, whispering for him to drink. Drink. Take her blood and give her release.

  Theroen moved his mouth from Naomi’s, licking traces of blood from her lips, and placed it against her neck.

  “Drink.” Lisette. A whisper.

  “Drink.” Naomi. A plea.

  Theroen bit down, as gently as he could, and pressed his hand against the smooth, warm, wet flesh at his fingertips. Naomi’s reaction was instantaneous, violent, enough so that Theroen wondered for a moment if perhaps he had hurt her much more than his bite should have. She cried out, thrust her hips forward into his touch, over and over. Her hands made claws against his back.

  Theroen drank, making an effort to resist the trance that wanted to blanket him, that would make him unable
to stop until the girl’s heart gave its final beat. He succeeded, drank only a few swallows, and detached himself from the girl, gasping.

  Naomi laid back in a semi-swoon, hand at her neck, breathing ragged, eyes far away. Lisette reached across Theroen and adjusted the girl’s skirts. Her touch seemed to register with Naomi, who looked around, groggy but aware.

  “Good?” Lisette’s voice held the air almost of an indulgent parent. Naomi nodded, trying to catch her breath. Lisette turned to Theroen, took his hand in both of hers.

  “Good?”

  Theroen shook his head, not in denial but in an attempt to clear it, licking blood from his lips. He stared out at the fire. “Everything previous seems distant and uninteresting,” he said at last. Lisette laughed her musical laugh, kissing his fingertips.

  “Then all is very well, indeed! Are you tired, Naomi?”

  “Tired, yes, mistress. But … if master Theroen is not finished, I … would not object to indulging him further.”

  Lisette laughed again, clapping her hands, delighted. “Ah, my dear, asking for seconds so soon? Theroen will think you of low character!”

  Theroen glanced around at this and smiled slightly. “I assure you, he thinks no such thing.”

  “It matters not. Naomi knows her character very well indeed. She is also much more tired than she is letting on. There is no time for further entertainment tonight.”

  Naomi, understanding this to be a dismissal, stood. She was unsteady on her feet, so Lisette helped her down the hall toward the bedrooms. Theroen watched the girl disappear into darkness, returning her small wave. Lisette moved back to the couches, sat again next to Theroen, and looked at him for a time with her sparkling eyes, saying nothing.

  Finally she asked, “Was that evil, Theroen?”

  “Mil—Lisette, I don’t know what that was.”

  “Ah, but that I can answer for you. It was but a small taste of what a vampire like yourself might experience. We are both of us blessed, Theroen.”

  “How so?”

  “What Naomi just experienced is but a shadow of what more skilled ministrations can bring her, and that but a hint of what a vampire lucky enough to retain such human abilities can feel. I possess that gift, Theroen, and so do you. Think of the fun we shall have!”

  Theroen stared at her, smiling. “Lisette, I believe if I contemplate that possibility overmuch, I may well never leave your side again.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Abraham—”

  “Abraham is a black-hearted fool who understands nothing more than death. All that was human in him died during the change. He erroneously assumed the same would be true of you, my priest.”

  “And you believe otherwise?”

  Lisette again left him to decipher only her smile.

  * * *

  Two’s eyes were wide. The mansion was not yet near. Theroen had paused momentarily to glance at her and gauge her reaction.

  “Am I boring you?”

  Two laughed, shaking her head. “No. God, no. This is great. It’s like vampire porn. ‘The Erotic Adventures of Theroen, Chapter 1.’ ”

  Theroen laughed at this. “Four hundred years would add up to many chapters indeed, but the truth is that much of it would sound the same. Sex may not grow tiresome for those involved … at least, if they’re good at it. But listening to stories about it only lasts so long.”

  “It’s not even the sex, really. I know what that’s like. It’s the idea of you not knowing, I think,” Two said.

  “The loss of innocence, yes. People often find that arousing.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Greatly.”

  “Did you sleep with Lisette?”

  “Not that night.”

  “But eventually?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  * * *

  For several months, Theroen spent every waking moment of his time with Lisette and Naomi. It took little time for Lisette to coax Theroen into the fullness of his own sexuality, and evenings frequently began with feeding, perhaps a show, and ended in lengthy stretches of passion. His early teachings came from Naomi, and with Lisette’s guidance the two learned rapidly. Naomi took his virginity from him, gave him her own, in a bed of satin, Lisette’s soft whispers a soothing backdrop to the heat of passion, the heat of blood.

  After this, their lovemaking was frequent, spontaneous, shared. Theroen and Naomi, Theroen and Lisette, Lisette and Naomi, the three together. Naomi would be a fledgling someday, Lisette explained. Her body was young, yet, but the time was nearing. Naomi, for her part, was content for now with the ministrations of her vampire lovers.

  Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months. Theroen saw nothing of Abraham, delved no further into the darkness that had held his soul for the past decade. Mental, physical, spiritual, Lisette was his teacher in all things, and found Theroen a most willing pupil.

  A year. Another. A third. When Lisette brought Naomi to darkness, Theroen was there, watching like a proud father. The process was more difficult for her than it had been for Theroen, and Lisette explained that this was due to differences between the vampire strains. There was pain, but Naomi bore it, and in the end was nearly unchanged by the transformation. She gained strength, speed, the ability to see in the dark, but no evil touched her, and she did not lose her sexual abilities. She remained their constant companion, a fledgling learning from her mistress, and from her friend.

  They made quite the trio, strolling the streets of London after dark, dressed in the latest fashions, hunting as it pleased them. There were events to attend. The theatre, the symphony, the opera. Time passed, as it does during the good times, in what seemed a blur.

  In her third year of vampire life, Naomi discovered the pleasures of coupling with her victims before she fed. This was a bittersweet occurrence. Her time with both Theroen and Lisette became less frequent, much to their disappointment. She still lived with them, still enjoyed their company, but now hunted alone, and most of her lovemaking was with humans. Simultaneously, this left more time for Theroen and Lisette to be alone together. They used it, growing ever more skillful in the pleasures they brought to one another. Naomi was a welcome addition when she wished to be, a companion otherwise.

  More years. Five became ten, ten became twenty, twenty became forty. Abraham was a distant memory. Lisette, Naomi, they were reality. Theroen’s companions. He had come to love his immortal life with them, to cherish it more than he could have thought possible.

  But in the forty-first year of his new life, Theroen found these things he cherished, his entire world, shattered beyond repair.

  * * *

  It started in a grove of trees, under a full spring moon. Lisette and Theroen, walking in the park, talking quietly, warm from the kill. They entered a small grove, away from prying eyes. The glint in Theroen’s eyes had made Lisette laugh. “Someone will call the constable!”

  “Let them.”

  Skin against skin, lips at each other’s necks, warmth flowing between them, growing to a fire. No one had called the constable. When it was through, they lay in each other’s arms, saying nothing. Lisette stared at the moon.

  When she sighed, there was melancholy in it, to Theroen’s surprise.

  “What is it, Lisette?”

  “Theroen, sometimes I think I can see the future.”

  Theroen was unsure of how to respond. Lisette sighed again, put her forehead in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, kissed the skin there.

  At last he could take the silence no longer. “What do you see?”

  No words, for a long time, and then Lisette moved her head, rolled her weight on top of him so she could look into his eyes. There were tears in her own, a first from Lisette. He saw them drop, felt them land, cool on his cheeks. The moon reflected silver in the tracks on her face.

  “Darkness, my love. All I see for us is darkness,” Lisette whispered, and putting her head to his chest, she wept.

  * * *

  T
hereon paused for a moment, took a deep breath. Two glanced over at him.

  “This is hard for you. I’m sorry, Theroen. You don’t have to tell it.”

  Theroen shook his head. “No, it is best that I do. I have kept this story to myself for hundreds of years, and I think perhaps this is why it is still so painful. If I could have brought myself to talk about it, I might have been able to heal. Modern psychology seems to bear that theory out.”

  “Could Lisette really tell the future?”

  “She was certainly right in this instance. All there was for us, in the end, was darkness.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Next? It’s funny, in a way. What happened next was done to protect me. Ah, Two, I was young. I was so very young. I had lived for over sixty mortal years, yes, but forty of those were vampire years. They pass in a blur, and contain fewer lessons. There was no death to deal with, aside from the victims. No sickness. No worrying about occupation or supporting a family. There was nothing to make me into a man.

  “Lisette knew this, I imagine; she knew how naive I was. Perhaps that is what made her love me. Lisette’s strain is prone to depression, particularly after long stretches of immortality. She was more than eight hundred years old when I met her. I believe that Naomi and I became her anchors. Her reasons for living. She was terrified of what might happen to us, but equally terrified of pushing us away and being alone.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She told me not to worry about it, to forget her words. I was confused. Upset. To be honest, I was frightened quite severely by this sudden change. I had never seen Lisette weep. In truth, I had never seen her give in to a weakness of any sort. To see her so distraught was disturbing, though I did my best to comfort her. I held her, and she clung to me in a panic for a time. I whispered in her ear that I would make things right, that all would be well. Eventually she regained her composure.”

  “Did she explain?”

  Theroen shook his head. His voice betrayed more frustration than sorrow. “No. I attempted to learn more from her, but she would say nothing. She dismissed it as the emotional ramblings of a woman, and like a fool I accepted it. The calm, collected, unperturbed Lisette I knew was returning, and I was glad for it. Relieved. I took her at her word. This was a momentary emotional outburst.”