by Evie Byrne
Mathilde clucked her tongue. “He’s on thin ice. That man is under constant pressure and does nothing to relieve the strain. One of these days, all his famous restraint will crack, and I wouldn’t want to be there when that happens.”
Eva kept her eyes on the fire, her expression neutral. No wonder he was wound so tightly. No wonder he ran hot and cold. Part of her recognized this news as important strategic information, but another part of her hated thinking in those terms. It was time to change the subject. “Gunnar seems happy to be home.” Meaning he was spanking happy not to be held hostage any longer. Yep, that was one smooth segue.
“This isn’t Gunnar’s home,” Bera said, a little too quickly.
“The Halversons didn't live here,” Leni explained in her quiet way. “They had a place on the outskirts of Big Falls, among humans. Paul was strange that way.”
“They hunted from snowmobiles, with guns.” Bera added, sounding defiant, as if this were an insult.
Huh. If the remaining Northwoods vamps didn’t respect Halverson’s choices, would they ever respect his son? Was banking on Gunnar’s influence a bad strategy? Now was the time to dig dirt. “So he didn’t grow up here?”
“Gun came up for summers,” Maren said, “because Paul wanted the boy to know a little of the ‘old ways,’ even though he’d left it all behind himself.”
As she spoke, she refilled the bowl and sent it around the circuit again. Eva decided the tea had slight sedative qualities. Not quite intoxicating, it seemed designed to encourage relaxed talk.
“Gunnar could be as good a prince as his grandda.” Leni said. “Old Hannah says he has the look of Ulf. And Wat can set him right. If—well, if he gets the chance.”
“Wat’s got nothing else to do with his time, that’s for sure,” Mathilde sighed, and the other women laughed at her wistful tone. She waved away their laughter and asked, “You got a man back in California?”
Eva weighed her answer. Admitting to her stable of human lovers would just mark her as a typical, decadent city vamp. And anyway, what they were asking was if she were in a relationship. It would be even more shocking to them if she told them she couldn’t have a relationship. That her role, as Hand, demanded that sacrifice, just as she’d sacrificed her family. If she had someone special at home, that someone would always be in danger. If she had someone special, she’d not be able to devote all her waking hours to her job. By definition, a Hand was alone. In the end, she punted. “No one special.”
Mathilde said, “But you keep busy, I can see.”
“What do you mean?”
Her shrewd mouth twitched up at the corners. “A woman doesn’t look as glossy and content as you by denying herself the company of men.”
Eva laughed. It felt good. “I don’t deny myself company, that’s true.”
“All the more reason to keep the tea going around.” The other women laughed and made grumbling comments about the scarcity of men.
“You should have seen this place in the old days,” Mathilde said. “Everyone came here, from far and wide, to drink at the Spring and worship at the Grove, to sit in the meetings and trade. Once, you could have a man whenever you wanted one.”
The other women looked at Mathilde with utter dismay. She’d just dropped a secret. There were more of these people. Near? Far? Politically aligned? Ready to defend Brunnrheim?
She turned to Maren for an explanation, and Maren confessed without prodding. “There are others who live as we do, more or less. They are scattered from here to the sea and further north, into Canada--wherever the forest is deep. And of course we have kin in the Old Country. But all those others live under the jurisdiction of other princes. Here in Northwoods Territory, we are just as you’ve seen. The concern of your prince is with us, Halverson’s folk, and our crimes, já?”
It was true that her business was with Halverson’s territory and people. However, she didn’t like the idea of an unknown number of sympathizers nearby, sympathizers who could possibly be massing a few miles off, readying themselves for one last defense of Brunnrheim. Yet she couldn’t get too worked up about the possibility. If the Brunnrheimers had backup, they wouldn’t be in the sorry state they were in now. And anyway, it didn’t matter if they could scrounge up more fighters. No force in America, much less one that lived in the Stone Age, could stand against the combined armies of Los Angeles and New York, not to mention their new allies in the Twin Cities. Brunnrheim would be leveled, no matter what. But she’d request aerial recon, just in case.
“Fair enough,” she said with a smile. See? I’m a nice Hand.
The tension broke. Maren passed her the bowl again.
Eva took a swallow and handed it on. “What kind of tea is this, anyway? I’ve never had it before.”
Four puzzled faces turned to her. “It’s women’s tea,” Maren said, as if that should be obvious.
“What’s in it? Can I get it in L.A.?”
“I should hope you could,” Mathilde said, shocked.
“Why?”
“Maybe you use something else instead,” said Leni. “A different tea?”
Now she stared back at all four women, and they stared back, at an impasse. “Am I missing something here?”
Mathilde said in a curiously professional sort of tone, “Do you have any children, Eva?”
“God, no. That’s impossible. My job—”
Ever direct, Bera asked, “How do you keep from breeding?”
“I…” Here was the feeder thing, coming back to bite her. “I take precautions.”
Leni spread her hands. “So you do have your own tea. A city tea.”
“Tea?” She really was missing something. Outside, the party still raged. A man whooped, and the dogs howled in chorus. Inside, it was very quiet, the women all looking uncomfortable. Then it clicked. “This tea—it’s a contraceptive?”
Maren clucked and wrung her hands. “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew about women’s tea. Well, if as you say, you don’t mean to start a baby, it won’t have done any harm now, will it?”
“That—” She pointed at the bowl in disbelief. “Is a contraceptive?”
Mathilde began, “Women drink it unless they’re wanting—”
Leni interrupted. “No one wants a baby just now.”
“Thank the Mother you’re not pregnant.” Maren made a sign over her heart.
“I’m not. Not a chance in the world of it.” She held up her hands. “I’m not angry. I’m…amazed.”
No one had ever figured out an effective vampire contraceptive. Not the flaky and underfunded vamp scientists. Not the human scientists they’d controlled and compelled over the years to try to develop a vamp version of the Pill. The sperm of the male vampire, Eva thought with an inward sigh, was unconquerable.
Except here. Among people who didn’t even have showers.
Leni frowned. “What do you use if you don’t have women’s tea?”
“Condoms. Or nothing. It’s complicated.”
“I bet it is,” Mathilde said, her eyebrows high.
“If this stuff really works, it’s a miracle. Do you know how much we’d pay for this formula? What’s it made of?”
Mathilde intoned, “The wisdom of the grandmothers. The gifts of the forest.”
Leni gave the bowl a hard push, so it overturned and the remaining brew spilled into the ashes of the fire. “It’s just one more thing that will be soon be lost forever. Illr blóm!”
Maren clucked her tongue and righted the bowl.
Eva held spread her hands, imploring. “It doesn’t have to be that way, all or nothing. If you move peaceably, you can come back to the forest and harvest the ingredients, and make money selling the tea to the rest of us. You could form a company. This is an amazing opportunity. Handle it right, and you’ll be rich. You’ll have everything you need.”
Leni curled her lip in disgust. “Everything but our freedom, our land, and our history.”
Eva scanned
the circle of set faces. “I’m sorry, but something has to give here. Wat says you won’t move. Is this true? Is this really what you want? I’m here to offer you another path. This tea seems like a gift to me—a sign that you should move South. Sales of this tea could support all of you. Easily. You’d have nothing to worry about.” In fact, if things went pear-shaped, she should try to secure this recipe any way she could.
All the women stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns.
“The tea is a gift,” Mathilde repeated.
“Fine. Leave the tea out of it. Make no mistake, though, your lives are on the line.”
“Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us, Miss Sosa,” Maren said primly.
Eva clenched her hands in her lap. She was getting really sick of these people.
Chapter Eight
Eva woke before sunset, eager to get her plan underway. She dressed for hunting—her kind of hunting—wiggling into a short, black skirt from the bottom of her bag and pairing it with her black turtleneck sweater, her little Patagonia jacket, and her much-mocked high boots with the faux-fur trim. At home, she had outfits that could drop a jaded man to his knees. But this would do for Rust Jaw. She brushed her hair until it shone dark and lustrous, and then twisted it into a knot secured with a long, ruby-tipped pin, leaving the front loose to frame her face. Her eyes she lined in black, and she colored her lips in deepest red. All hail the gothic snow princess.
Someone knocked at her door. “I’ve brought wood for you,” Gunnar said.
She unbolted the door and let him in. Seeing her, he froze in his tracks, mouth agape.
“Get in here.”
He hustled in and piled the wood by the fireplace. She closed the door. “I’ll just, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll build this up for you.”
She let him recover his composure by poking at the logs for a minute. Meanwhile, she took a perch on edge of the dressing table and crossed her legs. “I’m going to Rust Jaw tonight. To hunt.”
“Oh?” he said, eyes riveted to the fire.
“Since I watched you hunt last night, I think you should watch me tonight. It’s only fair.”
“Watch you…uh…” He fiddled with the poker. “But not if you always— I mean, I can’t watch you while... It’s not the same at all!”
“Don’t worry, little petal. Despite what your cousins say about me, I do have some sense of decency. And I think you’d learn a lot.”
He stood and brushed off his hands. “I don’t need to learn about that.”
“I think you do. You’re a prince. It’s your duty to be educated. You may not approve of the rest of nocturnal society, but you should have a good working knowledge of how we operate. Otherwise you’ll remain ignorant, and ignorance is a terrible weakness in a prince.”
He straightened, flushing. “I’m not weak.”
“No, you’re not.”
“But we’re not supposed to mix.”
“Your father did, didn’t he? He liked humans.”
He began to look panicked. “But Wat—”
“Let me deal with Wat,” she purred. “Come on, Gunnar. What other plans do you have tonight? Wouldn’t you like to have an adventure?”
The boy was yielding. His eyes shifted to one side, and he chewed his lip. Guilty, but intrigued. No boy his age could resist the temptations of a bar, of sin, of sex. Hell, even just visiting the Podunk town would be a thrill for him. She wouldn’t need to use her subtler forms of compulsion.
But she did have more bait to dangle. She went to the mirror and fussed with her hair, watching him in it as she did. “It’s possible that we might find a feeder for you. If you want.”
His eyes bulged. “I don’t…I don’t want that.”
“No need to get your panties in a knot.” She touched up her lipstick. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just saying, it’s fun to hook up. You know, just to play. A kiss. A few sips. Nothing big.”
He shook his head vehemently, setting his bangs swinging. “No. No way.”
“Then just come and watch, and learn what you can.” She smiled at him. “I’d love the company. Even more, I’d like to have someone watching my back.”
That made him brighten up, but his enthusiasm was short-lived. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. “I dunno…why do you have to go? There’s plenty to eat around here, if you’re hungry. It’s safer.”
“‘Safer’?” She sniffed. “I thought the Halversons were known for their balls.”
His eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I should think so. You’re not an idiot. You’re not a child, either. Make up your own mind—and do it soon, because I’m going to talk to Wat right now.”
With that she shrugged on the Nanook coat and headed out to see Wat. Gunnar cursed under his breath, and then followed.
Wat turned from the fire when he heard Eva and Gunnar’s steps. When he saw her, he almost dropped his coffee.
“Where are your pants?” he blurted. All he could see were her bare knees and a bit of thigh, framed by the ridiculous boots and the lower edge of her parka.
Deadpan, she opened the parka, showing him even more round, smooth, creamy thigh. She was wearing a skirt. Or rather, an oversized belt.
“Are you insane? You’ll get frostbite!” As he spoke, his eyes lifted from the intriguing thighs, but that turned out to be a bad idea. Her tight sweater hugged her high breasts. She was made up, her eyes and lips sultry, her hair lifted to expose nape and ears.
She raised a shoulder, unconcerned. “I’m not planning on being outdoors much tonight. Straight from car to bar. I’m going to Rust Jaw to get something to eat.”
In a flash he imagined her in a dark alley with her human prey, her skirt shoved up, her legs around his hips. He slammed down his coffee cup. He hated her casual decadence. And yet he couldn’t help but imagine her round ass under his hands, the easy yielding of her skirt, her panting breath at his ear, and he went as hard as cordwood.
“You’re going to Rust Jaw alone?” His voice rasped like sandpaper. He hoped she wouldn’t notice. “That is not a good idea.”
“I can take care of myself. And I have to eat.”
“I’ve sworn myself to your safety. I can’t just let you go into a strange town to pick up some random man.”
“Not necessarily a man.” She grinned, her white teeth feral against her red lips. “I’ll see what’s on offer. Do you have any more coffee?”
He shoved a cup her way and pointed to the pot warming in the coals.
“Such a face, Wat.” She made a tsking noise and filled the cup. “You shouldn’t worry. I can take care of myself. It should take no more than seven hours. That will give you plenty of time to think about the concept of concessions. We can continue our negotiations when I return.”
“I have to go with you.” He said it before he thought it through, but it was true. There was no keeping her here, and there was no way he could let her go alone.
“That’s not necessary.”
“What if your truck gets stuck in the snow? Or the battery dies? What if you get lost? You might be able to handle humans, but no way can you handle this country.”
“Gunnar has kindly offered to be my native guide.” As she said this, her eyes shifted slyly to Gunnar.
Wat turned to Gunnar. “Is that true?”
Gunnar swallowed, blushed, glanced at Eva, and then nodded.
This was a conspiracy. The woman was a menace.
“I want to go,” Gunnar said, drifting to Eva’s side. “And I can take care of her.”
Wat growled with frustration. Words just didn’t suit.
“Poor Wat.” Eva grinned. “I assume that means you’re coming with?”
He’d like to lock both of them in their rooms. But he couldn’t prevent her from feeding, and he was trying to groom Gunnar for leadership, so he couldn’t treat him like a child. She had him trapped.
She blew him a kiss.
Wat pulled Eva’s SUV into the bar’s huge parking lot. He passed the area filled with trucks and RVs and found a space in the section reserved for cars. The bar itself was a ramshackle, low, windowless building topped with a neon sign that read The Hole. Except that the L and the E were dark. Even from the car, he could smell the assembled humanity. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He could deal with humans one on one, but he didn’t like them in crowds.
Eva shed her coat and climbed out of the car. “Let’s go.”
Gunnar scrambled after her, and Wat followed more slowly, scanning the parking lot for threats. He knew that Eva was tougher than she looked, that she could handle herself in a bar like this—if not through strength alone, then through compulsion, which he expected she had in spades. Gunnar, though, had little experience with either fighting or compulsion, and was all too easily dazzled.
As they neared the door, she turned to him. “Wat, it’s fine if you want to play bodyguard, but you’ve got to give me space. I can’t hunt with you hovering over my shoulder. You’ll scare them all off with that face of yours. Keep an eye on Gunnar, if you must, but pretend you don’t know me.”
Eva sauntered up to the bouncer, said a few words, and he waved them in. Either she’d already used compulsion, or it wasn’t the kind of place that checked ID on a teenager. They stepped through the battered door, pasted with stickers and flyers, into a wall of sound and scents. Shouts. Laughter. Raw, pounding music. He closed his nose to the mingled odors of stale beer, cigarettes, and some rank chemical perfume, perhaps cleaning fluid, perhaps bug spray. He smoothed out his expression, lowered his eyes, and dropped his shoulders, making himself inconspicuous. He’d worn his store-bought clothes to help the illusion—jeans, a flannel shirt, a down vest, and stiff-soled boots that pinched his feet.
He twitched as they plowed through the sea of bodies, mostly leather-wearing biker types and truckers in billed hats. It had been a long time since he’d been in a place like this. He hadn’t missed it at all.
