My Familiar Stranger

by Victoria Danann

  Ram let that sink in, his eyes slowly taking on a horrified expression. It really hadn’t occurred to him that this was a challenge he could lose. He just thought that, given enough time, she would come to know that they belonged together and that no other outcome was possible.

  “So what would you be advisin’?”

  “I’m glad you asked. I saw the little episode on the train.” Ram looked blank. “The finger in the upholstery?” Ram bit back a grin. “Okay. See? There’s the problem right there. Elora’s not going to choose a guy with porn mud flaps.”

  Ram looked confused. “Porn mud flaps?”

  “Truck flaps with nudie silhouettes in a come-and-get-it pose? Never mind. The point is she isn’t going to be won by displays of vulgarity.”

  “Vulgarity.” Ram repeated it softly like he was just now seeing himself through her eyes.

  “Yes. Vulgarity. And we both know you were raised better.” Ram pressed his lips together at Kay’s mention of his upbringing and shot him a glare. ”Knock knock in there. Anybody home? She. Is. Human. She’s not just going to wake up one morning and recognize you as her mate. You need to get yourself off autopilot and get your head in the game, or by Yuletide there may be some beautiful, framed photos of you and me as best men at their wedding. Have you seen the way he looks at her? They may very well get to the altar before Trina and me.”

  Eyes flashing silver, Ram’s notorious temper surged at the unwelcome image of Elora in a human wedding, wearing one of those frothy, white dresses, leaning up to kiss Storm in his dress uniform.

  “That’s no’ funny, Kay!”

  He said it as he was hearing her voice in his head. That’s disgusting, Ram. You’re in desperate need of finishing school. Blackie has better manners. Great Paddy’s Prick. Kay was simply confirming what she’d been saying all along.

  “No shit?” Kay was set to be relentless if that’s what it took to get through all that mess of hair to the hard head beneath it. “Even if you get her to want you, how are you going to motivate her to choose you over her sense of duty and obligation?”

  Ram hesitated. “Do you know?”

  His eyebrows had drawn together in worry. On one hand he thought that, if Fate saw fit to bring him a human mate, there would have to be some mutuality. But, even if that was true, would it be enough to override the strength of will that this particular human had demonstrated when she survived the interdimensional version of highway to hell?

  “You’ve got to start thinking like a human.” Ram recoiled a little like that prospect might be distasteful. “Love.” Kay said as if it was a whole sentence.

  “What about it?”

  “You need to find out what romance looks like and sounds like to Elora. What are her fantasies? Does she believe in true love? You’d best stop sitting on your hands and be finding out if she believes in forever.”

  How ironic that Kay would use that expression when “sitting on his hands” was exactly what Ram had to do sometimes to keep them to himself. He told himself it was just a coincidence and not a sign. Just because he was Irish didn’t mean he was superstitious. Exactly.

  Ill at ease doesn’t begin to describe the anxiety Ram was feeling about the idea of staging a romantic coup de grace. His area of expertise was more along the lines of the seventy-five minute fuck: fifteen minutes for seduction which was allotted, but never needed. Sixty minutes to find a suitable environment, do the deed, offer excuses about being short of time, and haul the hell away - the ideal being in and out with no exchange of names. Again, time allotted, but never needed.

  “Great Paddy, Kay, what the fuck do I know about human romance?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “When elves recognize mates, we basically walk up and say, ‘Tis you and me. Let’s go.’ The whole thing is playful. No’...” He blew out a breath of exasperation. “...so bloody serious.”

  “But you do love her.”

  “Of course I love her. I love everythin’ about her and do no’ even have a choice in the matter. I mean, not that I would change it. Fuck! I can’t think straight.” Suddenly he stopped fretting and jerked his head toward Kay. “But, what would you be knowin’ about it anyway? You’ve been with the same girl since you were suckin’ pacifier.”

  “That’s true.” Kay chuckled as his thoughts clearly wandered to Katrina. “Just saying that, if I were you, with so much at stake, I believe I’d find a way to figure it out. Look. It all comes down to this. How bad do you want her?”

  Suddenly Ram brightened like a light bulb went on. “She does believe in forever. All those stories she likes so much end with her sayin’ ‘and they lived happily ever after’.”

  Kay smiled. “Well, there you go.”

  The gray stone walls of Elora’s room were broken up with huge, museum quality tapestries. The floor, also gray stone, was partially covered by a large rug with a teal blue background that could have been taken from a Venetian palazzo. Somehow the juxtaposition worked and the result was sumptuous.

  There was enough time before dinner for a hot bath to drive the mountain chill away. She plowed into her suitcase to retrieve the warmest clothes she’d brought and was glad for them. Dressed and ready for dinner, she came downstairs wearing a long, black, knit skirt over leggings and a rose colored sweater with a large, mink-look-alike collar.

  She followed the rise and fall of voices and the sounds of clinking glass to find the dining hall. It was a huge room that, in centuries past, had been used for eating, dancing, settling disputes in times of peace, and strategy in times of war.

  Three walls featured fireplaces ten feet wide and high as her chin. Small, merry little fires were burning in each. The fourth wall was divided into three arches that opened to the foyer. The combined illumination from the gas lit sconces, the fires, and the candles on the tables cast reflected light off sparkling, crystal goblets. The room could easily accommodate the fifty odd people who lived and worked at Unit Drac, the nickname they had given this unique installation, plus guests.

  In front of the fireplace at the far end of the room was a table set for eight with a centerpiece of red roses and local forest greenery.

  The room grew quiet when she arrived as everyone turned to watch her entrance. She would never get used to that, but, unless she dyed her hair, the unusual color was always going to draw attention. With cheeks still rosy from the heat of her bath and her angelic smile, there were at least two men in the room who thought she looked breathtaking.

  Elora easily located her escorts standing near the table at the far end of the room, holding wine glasses and talking with colleagues with an easy urbanity. Their relaxed body language broadcasted the fact that the three were as at home with elegant social events as they were in their reputed role of legendary vampire slayers.

  On the way to the other side of the room, several people stopped her to introduce themselves. She made gracious, but idle small talk with each before continuing. When she neared the head table, Nicole du Relacque, their hostess, came forward saying that they didn’t normally build fires this early in the year, but wanted to be sure that their guest of honor was warm enough. Elora thanked her for the consideration and assured her that, with some of the red wine the gentlemen were drinking, she would soon be warmed through and through.

  Ram’s chest swelled with pride when he saw firsthand what a charming guest Elora made. The fact that she didn’t yet know she was his didn’t change the inevitability of it in the least. He asked if she would like to sit close to the fire, walked around the table and pulled out a chair at the end. She tilted her head and smiled like he had just done something worthy of a prince. Though he didn’t let it show, he was mortified to realize his manners were a surprise to her.

  Just before dinner was served, a young woman took the seat at the head of the table next to where Elora was sitting with Ram next to her. At the other end of the table the du Relacques entertained Storm and Kay with the history of the castle and its reconstruction.


  Elora’s newly arrived dinner companion introduced herself as Zutsanna Zajac. She appeared to be early thirties. Her skin and features could easily pass for twenties, but she had that look of experience in the world – good and bad - that transcends the purely physical. Her thick Hungarian accent added exotic undertones to her conversation and somehow enhanced her attractiveness.

  Elora inquired about her specific duties with Black Swan.

  “Please forgive me. There is no way to say this that does not sound rude. I am working on a project that is need-to-know and cannot say more, but I would so much rather hear about you and your journey cross-dimension.”

  That question immediately brought up imagery and memories that made Elora tense. Apparently not enough time had passed to emotionally distance her from the feelings associated with the event. Ram noticed her shoulders subtly stiffen. As she was sorting out the best way to answer, she felt a warm, strong hand reach into her lap and grasp her hand under the tablecloth with no one the wiser. She threaded her fingers through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if she was accustomed to doing so. It seemed there was an invisible cord running from Ram’s grounding, comforting touch to the corners of her mouth that made her smile when he covered her hand with his.

  Ram felt a momentary respite from the panic Kay’s lecture had incited. The ease with which Elora had allowed the familiarity and responded to him automatically was promising.

  Zutsanna Zajac’s personality was pleasing and she was adept at refined dinner conversation. Elora was fascinated by the grace and femininity of her movements: everything from the way she cut meat to the way she lifted a goblet made Elora feel clumsy.

  “I was wondering if the rumors that a mystical vortex exists on this very spot are true. I would think people might have trouble sleeping or concentrating.”

  Ms. Zajac was obviously unprepared for the question. She quickly disguised the surprise that crossed her face, but not before Elora noticed it.

  “Might I ask, where did you hear this?” Zajac asked cautiously.

  “GilesQuery.”

  “The world wide web?” Her look of incredulity was accompanied with what was probably cursing in Hungarian. “Why don’t we just open the doors to the tourist industry and take tickets!”

  It seemed Ms. Zajac was the whole Hungarian package complete with flare, temper and temperament included. She made a half-hearted attempt to regain her poise, said, “Please excuse me. It was delightful to meet you, but I must get back to work,” and left.

  Dinner was memorable for its presentation, the cuisine, and the company, but, before coffee was served, Elora was surreptitiously trying to hide a yawn.

  Storm asked about the plans for the meeting and was told that breakfast would be served at nine the next morning. The staff was prepared to arrange the interview at whatever time would be convenient for their guests.

  To Storm’s consternation, Ram announced he would see Elora upstairs before anyone else knew she was leaving. Just as she opened the door to the room where she was staying, Ram pulled her close and nuzzled her ear saying, “Would you like me to tuck you in?”

  The first impulse that came to her lips was to begin forming the word "yes". The press of his body, his lowered voice and his warm breath on her ear sent a thrill coursing through her from stem to stern. It would have kept her awake and restless all through the night if she hadn’t drunk too much of that rich red with the sultry, winter body of an ale. Her brain was trying to form a more prudent response when she was mortified to realize she had just giggled!

  “Um. No?”

  “You do no’ sound sure.” His eyes were sparking with amusement.

  She stared at the inviting curve of his lips turned into a half smile, lowered her voice two octaves, made her face very serious and said, “No,” again. Then burst into giggles.

  Ram laughed softly. “I like it when you imbibe. Unfortunately, you’re counting on me to be a gentleman.” Under his breath he said, “And I never thought anyone would accuse me of that.” He pushed her door open for her. “I’ll leave my room unlocked just in case you get cold in the night. ‘Tis that one.” He pointed to the door across the hall.

  When she woke during the night feeling a draft and reached to pull the down comforter up under her chin, she remembered Ram’s offer and smiled in the darkness thinking how shocked he would be if he woke to find her crawling between his covers. His words came back to her. No’ that I mind wakin’ to find you bendin’ over my bed in the middle of the night. She wondered how thick and soft those Black Tartan boxers would feel to her fingers as she slid them away from his beautiful body. Mulling over the possibility, she hiccupped once, and went back to sleep.

  ***

  CHAPTER 13

  BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Chapter 25,#64

  Instances have been reported of very old vampire regaining their humanity and, theoretically, an understanding of right and wrong. In such cases the vampire appear to be human in most respects, but must continue to be nourished by blood, real or synthetic, for the duration of their existence. They also retain exceptional strength and characteristic pallor of the iris.

  Waking to shafts of light coming through an undraped, glass window that was wavy due to the shifting of sand over time, Elora realized that she was eager to get the meeting over with. The warmth of the red wine had gone cold in her system during the night and she knew she was going to need another hot soak in the oversized tub to get rid of the shivers. Glancing out the window on the way to the bath, she saw that there were snowflakes in the air being carried on a horizontal breeze so that they appeared to be flying by instead of falling.

  Shifting from foot to foot, she stood by the tub hugging herself, waiting impatiently for the hot water to reach the spigot. It didn’t take long to warm up once she was immersed in the steamy tub. She thanked the gods for large hot water heaters.

  She put on a pair of expensive, tan, sueded leggings that could be worn inside her boots leaving enough room for one stake in each, just as she and Ram had planned when they were putting her wardrobe together. Over that she wore the warmest thing she’d brought: a thick, ivory, Irish knit, zip front sweater that fell to mid thigh. When she arrived at breakfast Storm’s first impression was that she looked far too fetching for the occasion. The classic simplicity and elegance of her clothes only served to accentuate the marvel of her hair and eyes. This was a dangerous liaison. Not a date. At least she wasn’t wearing red which was known to attract vampire like fly paper.

  Not especially hungry, she took cranberry juice, hot chocolate, and an orange scone from the sideboard. Ram noticed the hot chocolate wasn’t being enjoyed as much as usual and she picked at the scone. He leaned over until he was close enough to talk without being overheard by the others.

  “Off your chocolate this morn?”

  The minute her gaze met his he knew he’d guessed right. She was nervous.

  Elora was thinking that he knew her well, perhaps better than anyone had ever known her. He also had a talent for instantly establishing intimacy between them, even in a crowded room; a feeling like it would be easy to forget they were not alone. She nodded and smiled a shy, little smile like she was embarrassed to be found out.

  “You do no’ have to do this, Elora. I’ll pull the plug before you can say, ‘Baka, go fuck yourself ’.”

  She so did not want to laugh at that. But she laughed at that. He even knew her well enough to know how to get rid of the nerves. “Thanks. I’m good.”

  He pulled back to look at her face and try to judge for himself whether or not she was telling the truth. “No one would think less of you if you change your mind. I promise.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s do it.”

  “Have you a stake in each boot?”

  “I do.”

  “When you’re ready. No' before.”

  Elora turned to ask the little group if there were any rules like, for instance, how long the ‘audience’ s
hould last? They looked from one to another. It seemed no one had thought about it.

  “Well, in that case, I propose twenty minutes. That seems fair to me. If I don’t like the way things are going, I’ll end it then. If I think something productive could be gained by staying longer, I will.”

  Ram and Storm both argued for something concrete - a set twenty minutes and no longer, but Elora never backs down from a contest of wills.

  They took an elevator up to the top of the tower. There was a small observation area with a large glass window through which Baka and his entire life were on display. It reminded her of the infirmary room where she had spent over three months of her life. On the observation side, the view was broken by a series of bars that had been sunk into the concrete structure. To the left of that was a round, bulkhead style vault door that provided walk through access.

  To the right was a small, panel opening, used to accept and deliver laundry and other small items, the most important being sustenance. Monq developed the current version of synthetic blood in his labs a decade before.

  Baka was standing near the back of the room, as still as a statue. He gave the impression of watching them through the glass even though Elora had been told it looked like an ordinary mirror on the other side. He was wearing an untucked, navy blue, silk shirt that bloused a little at the cuffs and faded jeans. She was thinking, "What did that commercial say? If we all want to wear blue jeans how different can we really be?"

  The color of the shirt complimented the translucent, ice blue of his irises and gave them a penetrating look that was disconcerting. She remembered that he had arresting good looks, but hadn’t remembered thinking that he was stunning. As Storm went over safety precautions one more time, even though they had been rehearsed repeatedly, she was thinking that now might be a little late to wonder what she had gotten herself into.