by Peter Dawes
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
While he and I held eye contact, I narrowed my eyes in quiet contemplation, as though deconstructing him. Appearances were always deceiving – the younger-looking of us was often the oldest – and as Grigore fit my brother’s assessment of him, I could only as assume such was the case. It made slipping into his thoughts too perilous of a prospect, one sure to tip my hand if he was Zachary’s age or better. Still, that did not mean I had been barred from skimming his surface level thoughts.
“We have been trying to find a place to settle,” I began, hoping the lie came across convincingly. “My brother had it of the mind to revisit destinations where he had once stayed when younger. He and my maker traveled extensively.”
“And you didn’t?” Grigore asked.
My smile broadened. “No. As such you might have remembered me.”
Grigore nodded, the smile conveying all it needed to. ‘Fair enough,’ it said. ‘You knew what I would be fishing for.’ He seemed to relax, albeit marginally, and reached for another cigarette. “Well, if your immortal brother is looking for some place where other, established immortals are, this area is a good place for that. Tatiana, Fyodor, and I have been here for longer than you’ve been in existence.”
“That would make for a compelling case, despite any misgivings we have.”
My host furrowed his brow, as did a few of the others. Fighting the temptation to cast a net across their collective minds, I kept my focus settled on Grigore and shrugged nonchalantly. “You know the stories,” I continued, skimming my fingers across the top of the table, wishing for another cigarette to occupy my idle hands. “Things about much older vampires who take residence in ruins. I was told a rumor that one such place might exist around here.” Peering up at him, I perked an eyebrow, daring him for a response.
The other three all looked confused. At first, I could not interpret the look on Grigore’s face, but then he chuckled, the sound bearing a great deal of condescension. It grew to such volume as to garner a few curious glances from the human crowd. I bristled, but before I could make much in the way of further commentary, the laughter began to subside. “Don’t tell me you believe that sort of nonsense,” he said.
His derision still left a bad taste in my mouth. “I have it on good authority some myths have proven to be true.”
“Your good authorities see shadows in the dark that don’t exist, my friend. Our so-called histories breed nothing but paranoia, which drives us to delusions of grandeur.” Just as I felt one of his mental walls begin to cave, they returned, more reinforced than before while his gaze turned sickeningly paternal. “I’ve heard more stories of our kind being led down the path of dark magic than I have any of us encountering something like what you’re talking about. Don’t make the same mistakes your maker did.”
I pursed my lips tightly. “I have no intention of doing so, Master Grigore.”
“Good.” He pivoted in his chair, snapping his fingers at Ioan as he reappeared in the doorway. “Peter, you never did tell me what you wanted to drink. Let’s do away with childish topics and talk more about your travels.”
Opening my mouth to deliver a rather brusque order, I paused when I saw Grigore regard Ioan. Something about his expression faltered, as though it had crashed under the weight of too much self-control. I saw a sad form of relief and puzzled at it for the briefest of moments until I recognized it for what it was. A flicker in his thoughts confirmed something hidden, something which piqued my interest in light of a lie told so readily.
When he glanced back at me, I retreated fully from his thoughts. “Scotch,” I said. “Single malt, please.”
“Single malt it is.” He nodded once, turning his attention fully toward Ioan and conversing with him in Romanian. I settled back in my chair, a smile dancing across my lips which remained a fixture until drinks were refreshed and our discourse took on other tones, focused on lighter fare.
Our friendly banter lasted until Emil returned with his children. I stood to excuse myself to whatever quarters they had assigned for me, allowing Emil to guide me past the guarded doors and into a corridor, which dead-ended several feet from the entrance. To one side was another door, leading to a stairwell. Directly in front of us laid an elevator and as he pressed the only button – one indicating downward – I perked an eyebrow. “You live underground?” I asked.
He shot me a smile, but allowed the excursion to speak for itself.
We traveled downward, several levels, until the doors parted and permitted us to exit. The world that opened up before me took me aback; rather than being some sanitized corridor, the interior bore the trappings of the most elegant hotel a mind could fashion, replete with tapestries, tables, and colors blending in a vibrant representation of modern creativity. I caught myself gawking while Emil led me forward. He chuckled at the expression on my face. “You have never been to a coven like this?” he asked.
“No, not entirely. Certainly not one both so opulent and underground,” I said, my roving eyes shifting back to my escort. “You have humans mingling with us upstairs, a lavish lifestyle down below. It boggles the mind.”
“It is the natural order, my friend. We take and give back in return.” We reached an adjoining hallway, passing a few vampires along the way. He pointed left. “This way. Ioan says he placed you in the room at the end.”
I nodded, following in silence until we reached the door to my room. The interior bore the same level of lavish decorations the corridor boasted, making the thought of staying there intimidating. Emil lingered in the entrance, watching me glance around with both arms folded behind his back. I checked first for my bag before turning to face him.
“Good morning,” he said. “I will come to fetch you in the evening, when the others rise to hunt.”
I smiled amiably. “Thank you, Emil. Good morning to you as well.”
Emil nodded and turned to depart, pulling the door shut behind him. I waited for the sound of a click before relaxing, standing in place for a few additional seconds to collect my thoughts. Retreating into the bathroom, I regarded my reflection, seeing the spell still holding true and sighed. Exhaustion took hold from the level of activity and mental gymnastics demanded of me in just one evening. As it stood, I began to wonder if slaughter was less taxing than exchanging pleasantries.
Stripping off my suit jacket, I removed my clothing and weapons, placing them on a table in a clean pile. As I immersed within the comforts of the sheets, I reached to touch the pendant dangling from my throat, reminding myself again for whom I was doing this until my eyes shut and blissful slumber captured me. My final thoughts were cast into the wind, bearing a kiss for my beloved while envisioning the one she would have returned had she been lying beside me.
Another evening of deception awaited on the other side.
Chapter Sixteen
I felt her fingertips coasting across my skin, slowly ascending to my shoulders and my neck. The touch delicate, there was a sensual tenor to it that somehow managed to be calming as well. I stirred slightly, a groan rumbling in my throat when I felt her weight shift on top of me. Warm breath hit my neck, a teasing kiss placed against my skin and another, further up.
A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. “How did I know I could count on you to find me, love?” I asked, my body pressing up against hers, both hands lifting to touch her hips in encouragement. With her still clothed, and our forms separated by the sheets I had nestled under, it was hardly skin-on-skin contact. That, however, would be swift to change if she continued kissing a path up to my ear.
She nibbled on the lobe as though sensing a dare.
I succumbed to a moan. The hands on her hips slid up to the space between her shirt and skirt, lifting fabric for just a taunting graze. When my thumb brushed against her back, I furrowed my brow, almost tempted to open my eyes for just one peek when her body temperature felt off for some reason. She lifted up, however, and before I could speak, her mouth crashed into
mine, the embrace that followed hungry and demanding. I sank into it for a few teasing moments.
When I felt a fang pierce my bottom lip, however, I recoiled.
My lids lifted. Rather than being the dark-haired enchantress I loved, the woman poised atop me bore short blonde hair and sharp incisors, which had elongated to full extension. I shot to a seated position, knocking her back onto the bed and rubbed at my face. “Bloody hell, Irina,” I said, the fog of sleep lifting enough to call to memory the Russian vampiress I had met the night before. I touched my lip and licked a remnant of blood away. “What are you doing here?”
Irina smiled, hand lifting to smooth back the locks of her hair. The fact that her fangs remained exposed threatened to unnerve me further. “You seemed to be enjoying it,” she said. Shifting forward again, she placed one hand on my thigh and inched closer, her brow furrowing. “Do your eyes change color?”
My eyes? ‘You stupid fucking fool.’ Blinking twice, I recalled belatedly one of the admonitions given to me by Darshan and Kamini; Irina had gotten too close. While she would see the lie again when she backed away, it would make my eye color only more conspicuous. “I have a condition –” I began, but her hand continued sliding further up my leg, threatening to make this even more awkward if she continued. Pushing her away, I slid out from under the covers and padded over to where I had left my clothing. Suddenly, being clad in just my underwear left me feeling self-conscious. “Irina, I do not appreciate being accosted while I am resting. If you wished to speak to me, it could have waited.”
“But then, I wouldn’t have you alone.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, crossing one over the other and leaning back against her palms as they pressed into the mattress. “Why are you so serious? Aren’t you here to have fun? Or don’t I please you now that I’m not a dream?”
I sighed, reaching for my pants and shaking them out. “I am complicated.” One leg slid into the garment, hastily followed by the other. “I know the lot of immortality considers sex to be currency, but I do not hold the same worldview.”
“Oh?” A seductive smirk curled the corners of her mouth. She licked her lips slowly, one hand lifting and her long, delicate fingers coasting down her neck before stopping at the top button of her blouse. Irina slid it open, her gaze never leaving mine. “Maybe you only need to relax a little.”
I watched the gesture for a few moments before shaking myself out of the observation. Turning my back to her, I slipped on my shirt and worked on securing it closed. “Get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t believe you want me to.”
“Believe what you would like.” My brusque tone even made me wince. I finished buttoning my shirt and glanced back in her direction, catching her furrowing her brow at me. Sighing, I slid my shirt into my waistband and fastened my pants shut. “I have somebody, if you are going to force me to be this direct.”
“Who?” Irina lowered her leg, lifting to a stand. The shirt remained partially unbuttoned, much to my dismay. “The one who owns the necklace you wear?”
“I do not feel the need to say much more about her than that.” Perking an eyebrow at her, I settled on a much more politely terse manner of speech. “Respect my wishes and leave the room, please?”
Irina sighed, but yet refused to budge. We started at each other across the short expanse between us, her hands settling on her hips while I folded my arms across my chest. The gesture provoked a giggle from her. Somehow, I sensed round two was about to commence.
And just as I summoned the thought, she relaxed her posture and sauntered over to me. Her fingers lifted to the buttons of her blouse, making quick work of them and exposing the absence of any undergarments as the thin piece of fabric settled onto the floor. I fought hard to look away from her, somehow transfixed on the sight of her pert breasts and ivory skin. The days when I had once claimed a hundred women just like her ran swiftly across my mind, memories of usury underscoring each decadent recollection. My resolve buckled just long enough for her to close the distance and press against me, her head tilting, teeth taunting at my jawline while I fought a shiver crawling up my spine.
With one sound shove, she forced me back against the table. I sat when inertia threatened my balance, feeling her crawl onto my lap, straddling me and seating herself directly atop my crotch. One part of my brain saw a vampiress working her wiles against me, those manipulative tendrils crawling around me even if for less nefarious purposes this time around. The other part scrambled for a foothold.
Her lips connected with mine. I sank into a languid kiss, my hand forced further back onto the table to compensate for the sudden shift in her weight. When I felt the hard metal of my dagger’s hilt, my fingers clamored for more of a grip, the two sides of my brain converging quickly into one goal. I still had a mission. I still had a prize at the end. I would not be dissuaded from it. From her.
The woman pressing up against my body was not Monica.
Before I could summon any further thought, the dagger found its way into my palm. The sharp point pressed against Irina’s throat, our lips parting just as she felt the sting of the blade’s tip cut into her skin. She froze, her eyes frantically finding mine and my gaze severe.
“If you are quite finished,” I said, a chill seeping through my words I had not heard there in some time. “Then feel at liberty to get down and put your shirt back on. The longer you remain there, the more likely I am to see how well you bleed before you turn to ash.”
My fangs pressed against my bottom lip, a sensation I found alarming while I detached enough from my actions to evaluate them in a clinical fashion. I could almost imagine the malice in my eyes, wondering if the shocked look painted on Irina’s face was in response to that. She slowly inched away, her teeth finally retracting by the time her feet touched the ground again. I lowered the dagger and her posture relaxed simultaneously. “You have no sense of humor,” she said, her voice subdued.
I opened my mouth to respond, but she paid me no mind while walking over to her shirt and plucking it from the ground. Both arms slid into their sleeves, her pushing the fabric shut atop her breasts as she fumbled to secure the first button shut. I refused to apologize if I had wounded her; she should have not presumed to take advantage of me, I told myself, especially when I had made it clear I wished her to stop. Still, a portion of my psyche rolled its eyes at me, especially when I said aloud, “I simply do not take kindly to being surprised.”
“You need to feed.” The words were delivered with bite to them, veiled behind a wall of wounded pride as she shrugged. Irina could not fool me, however. I still saw fear in the way she finally regarded me. “Maybe after a hunt, you’ll be in a better mood.”
I bit back a response, watching her spin on her heels and finish closing the final buttons of her shirt. She threw open the door and slammed it shut behind her, leaving me standing alone in a dark room, my mind still struggling to catch up with whatever had just transpired. Exhaling a shaky breath, I set aside the dagger and scrubbed at my face with both hands, fighting to recapture mental stability. “Oh, yes, a hunt,” I murmured. “My night seems apt to improve abundantly from this point.”
A grumble rose from my throat, hands reaching for the rest of my garments. No sense in pretending to still be asleep – that illusion would be shattered in short order. No doubt the coven would hear an earful, and now I had to explain what sort of vampire elder refused such eager company. Strike one had already been counted against me, and I had yet to even leave the room.
“A hunt it is, then,” I said, finishing the task of dressing.
Taking a few additional moments to steel myself – and to push the disquieting experience behind me – I finally ventured from the room once my nerves felt settled enough. Emil found me almost immediately, my exterior more put together even if inside, I was still a scrambled mess. His expression remained neutral, which unnerved me more than any look of disdain he could have manufactured. I did my best to mirror it. “Good evening
,” he said, his tone of voice polite. “Did you rest well?”
“Quite well, albeit with a rude awakening,” blurted past my lips in the most conversational way possible. Cocking a thumb in the direction of my room, I frowned. “I never knew Russian vampires bore such a level of presumption.”
A furrowed brow offered as his initial response, overtaken by a look of epiphany within a matter of seconds. “Oh.” He frowned as well, glancing around first before motioning me to accompany him further down the hall. I did as instructed. “Well, that would explain why Irina insisted you were in a poor mood.” We approached the elevators, Emil pressing the up button first before turning to face me again. “She forgets not all of us wake up wanting that sort of company. I’m sorry if she angered you.”
Of all the responses he could have offered, it was at once the most naïve and the most relieving. I nodded. “It isn’t how I prefer the dance to commence. And here, I had thought her and me off to a good start.”
“Try not to let it ruin the rest of the evening, friend.” When Emil finally smiled, a surge of relief rushed through me, leaving that taunting notion that I might have reclaimed lost ground. I straightened my posture and rode with him in silence to the top floor of the coven. On the other side of the double doors, the nightlife had started its routine for the human populace; I heard a band warming up and the familiar pounding of heartbeats and allowed myself the most genuine grin I had summoned since rising. Now, I only had need of getting to the other side of a hunt.
Grigore greeted me with a smile as we emerged and in his olden eyes, I saw another dare before he even had the chance to speak. “Glad you had the chance to make it, Peter,” he said, extending his arms once I came within a few feet of him. I only had the chance to notice Grigore’s second, Nicolae, standing behind him as an afterthought, falling into an awkward embrace with my gaze still set on the coven second.
