The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance
Page 46
Compelled to see her, he quickly showered, changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a Jimi Hendrix T-shirt, ran a comb through his thick, dark hair and skulked out the hidden exit. It wouldn’t do for Alexander to become too interested in his activities. The master had forbidden his offspring to take any action that wasn’t a direct order or coven business. If the short-tempered vampire knew about Ethan’s new obsession, there would be hell to pay.
Ethan wasn’t an idiot. He usually gave every appearance of following the rules. But he couldn’t seem to dampen his fascination with the blonde-haired human.
He knew what he intended to do was dangerous. Going to the human’s - Grace’s - studio meant being in the vicinity of other mortals. Other mortals with beating hearts and the pungent, intoxicating aroma of blood flowing just beneath the surface of their skin. He’d never been able to control himself before. Was he willing to go berserk and massacre an entire building full of people?
Apparently, he was.
On his walk downtown he practised saying her name out loud, “Grace, Grace, Grace . . .” The sound enchanted him. He’d gotten so caught up in his verbal trance that he missed all the reactions of the people he passed on the busy pedestrian mall.
When he arrived at her studio, he slipped around behind the building and leaned against the brick wall as a realization hit him. His knees went soft. Had he just walked along a street filled with his favourite food source without attacking anyone? The thought stunned him, then he laughed as he noticed he’d actually clutched his chest, making the familiar, mortal heart attack gesture. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like that. Something almost frighteningly freaky was happening. He hadn’t felt this odd since becoming a vampire in the late 1960s. Almost human.
Beautiful chanting captured his attention.
He inched towards the music studio window and peeked in, expecting to see a roomful of mortals. The large space was empty. He took a step back and focused on listening to the sweet sounds still issuing from somewhere nearby. Lowering his gaze, he tracked along the foundation of the building until he came to an open window in the lower level. He stepped closer and squatted to investigate.
The basement of the building had been transformed into a sound chamber. Instead of muting the sounds, the acoustical structure of the room exaggerated the depth of the notes, causing the frequencies to reverberate in breathtaking ways.
He could literally feel the chanting in every cell of his body. Or whatever made up his body these days.
The chamber appeared much larger than he’d expected. At least fifty people sat in concentric circles on the marble floor. Grace knelt in the centre, next to a sobbing woman who lay prone on a body-size pad, clutching her stomach. Ethan’s keen vampire nose told him the woman was sick. Not far from death. Why had she come to Grace’s circle on her deathbed? Maybe she wanted to experience the same peaceful feeling he’d experienced at Grace’s bedside. He knew from personal experience how horrible a painful death was.
The chanting was so powerful he felt his consciousness slipping away. He didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t suddenly been overwhelmed by the scent of blood - so many humans in one place - which immediately thrust him deep into his vampire nature. He growled and rose slowly to his full height, just in time to be surprised by a pair of mortals who turned the corner, heading towards his location. His mind spun as he thought of nothing but the aroma of the blood pulsing through the hapless mortals’ veins. His fangs descended and he crouched, ready to spring.
“Hi! Are you here for the sound circle? We’re late too. Why don’t you come on in with us?” The female of the couple moved to the door of the underground area and stood, waiting, a smile on her friendly face. Her companion waved.
As if he hadn’t just regressed into a snarling beast, he forced himself to straighten, then snapped his shoulders back and raised his chin. “Yeah, OK.” He clenched his fists at his sides.
Yeah, OK? What the hell? Nobody ever told me vampires could have psychotic meltdowns. Maybe all the drugs I did in the 1960s have finally caught up with me. Did I just choose not to attack them because they were nice to me? Am I insane? Since when does my brain work when I’m near mortals?
He edged over to the door and held it open while the two humans entered and descended the staircase. He followed, already enraptured by the engulfing sound.
Can’t these people sense me? Don’t they realize a predator is behind them? What’s happened to human instincts?
They entered the chant-filled sound chamber and quietly found places to sit in the outermost circle. He kept a distance between himself and the others seated nearby and scanned the room. It was incredible. Whatever Grace had done to the walls made the area seem as if they’d stepped inside an amethyst quartz crystal. The circle area consisted of gentle risers, so that people in each circle sat slightly elevated over the row before. Scented candles burned atop tall, ornate holders, creating soft light and shadows. His vampire vision, especially attuned to the darkness, allowed him to see the blissful expressions on the faces of the participants. The sounds washed over and through him. Fifty voices chanted unfamiliar words, creating extraordinary harmonies. The vibrations lapped against his ears like the soothing waves of a vast sea. He imagined himself back in the womb.
His gaze finally locked on the only one who mattered, and he studied her as she sang, her face ecstatic. Grace’s long, blonde hair flowed down the front of her body, hiding all but the sleeves of her shiny, white shirt. With his sensitive hearing, he was able to eliminate all the other voices and tune into hers. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Her timbre caressed him like summer rain and he felt his heart sputter, then beat wildly, which startled him because he’d previously had no occasion to allow his cold, dead heart to mimic life.
He closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure of her vocalizations, and began chanting himself. Or, more accurately, the chant took control. The sound simply happened. He’d heard about the concept of channelling, but he thought it was a scam. He’d never have guessed what an amazing sensation it was to simply allow sound to flow from his body without any conscious direction. He hadn’t sung in so many years, he was surprised by the power of his own tenor voice.
Suddenly, everyone in the room went silent. Everyone except Grace, that is. He’d stopped singing too, without even being aware of doing it. Had there been some imperceptible signal? Her glorious voice soared through the rarefied space as she leaned forwards, bringing her face near the woman on the floor, whose hands had relaxed at her sides. The sound was eerie and unearthly. Goosebumps rose on his arms - something that shouldn’t have been able to happen.
After a few seconds, Grace stopped singing and eased back from the woman. Like releasing a taut rubber band, the formerly limp recipient sprang to her feet, thrust her arms into the air, threw her head back and laughed. “She did it! Grace did it! I’m pain free for the first time since my cancer was diagnosed. Thank you, Grace! Thank you!”
Grace stood, opened her arms, and the woman collapsed against her, sobbing.
Ethan sniffed in the woman’s direction, expecting to recognize the familiar scent of impending death again and instead sensed . . . life. Shocked, he focused his full attention on the woman, scanning her body with his expanded perception, and was forced to acknowledge that he’d either been wrong when he declared her near death, or ... no. That was impossible. Chanting couldn’t have altered the woman’s physical body. Grace couldn’t possibly do anything so astounding. Impossible.
Then he frowned as it occurred to him that even if Grace had been able to do the impossible, the healing wasn’t the most bizarre thing in the room. Erasing cancer with sound was nothing compared to rising from the dead and drinking human blood to survive. Would all these people who took Grace’s miracle for granted be as open-minded about him? Yeah. He wouldn’t hold his breath - so to speak.
Still hugging and patting the woman, Grace addressed her audience. �
��Thank you all for coming tonight and for lending your voices and your intentions to Mary’s healing. We’ve shared something magical and special. It’s been a wonderful night. I look forward to seeing you next time.” At her words, everyone stood quietly and began moving towards the door, appearing to be in a light trance.
Grace hugged Mary again, and released her to her waiting friends. Ethan remained seated as the room emptied. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he felt driven to ... what? He had no idea. His heart still pounded unnaturally.
He rose and moved quietly - with only human speed so as not i to frighten her - to the centre of the circle where Grace had bent to retrieve the pad from the floor. As she straightened and saw him standing in front of her, she gasped.
“You’re the angel in my dream.” She backed away, let go of the pad and pressed her palms to her face. “I must be in an altered state. You’re just a figment of my imagination. I’ve felt strange all day. This vision will pass any minute now. I’ll just keep on talking to myself until you vanish.”
“I’m sorry to startle you,” Ethan said softly. “And to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m no angel. And I probably could appear to vanish, but I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.” His gaze locked on her brown eyes and he had to force himself not to entrance her. For some reason it seemed important that she speak to him of her own accord. He struggled to control the urge to touch her.
Grace dropped her hands from her face and stared at Ethan. She reached out a finger and poked his chest. “You’re real.” She retreated another step, blinked a couple of times, and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. You must think I’m incredibly rude and very strange. I’m not myself immediately after a sound healing session. My brain waves don’t return to normal right away. For a moment, you reminded me of ... someone I’ve seen before. The resemblance is very strong.” She stopped talking and stared again for a few seconds. “Have we met before? You really do seem very familiar.” Anxiety shadowed her features.
He heard Grace’s heart speed up, so he sent a light relaxation command. She inhaled a deep breath and released it. Her rhythm slowed. Deciding it might be wise to change the subject temporarily so as not to scare her - yet - he said, “I just wanted to tell you how moved I was by your session. I’ve never seen anyone heal with sound before. I’m impressed.” He added another subtle, mental nudge, suggesting she would feel at ease with him. Trust him. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her, only to allow a bond to form before he told the truth.
She gave a gentle nod and visibly calmed. “Thank you. I sometimes forget how unusual sound healing is to the rest of the world. I’m so used to doing it that it seems very normal to me.” She offered her hand. “I’m Grace Blackburn.” She cocked her head, inviting him to introduce himself.
Ethan grasped her hand. “Ethan . . .” He paused, unaccustomed to using his last name. In the vampire world nobody used surnames. “Ethan James.” He hoped the last blood he’d taken had warmed his skin sufficiently so she wouldn’t notice the coolness of his grip. He was relieved when she gave no indication of discomfort. It was so strange to be near a mortal without the bloodlust riding him. He was definitely in a parallel universe. “Do you have a few moments to talk? I’d really like to hear more about your healing techniques.”
A beautiful smile spread her lips. “I’d love to talk to you . . . uh, about the sound healing. It isn’t often I meet such a handsome man.” She paused, her eyes wide. “Oh! Did I say that out loud? I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I don’t usually connect with new people so easily. Especially men ...”
Ethan laughed. “I’m happy to be the exception.” What am I doing, laughing like an idiot? She’ll be disgusted and repelled as soon as she finds out what I am. What the hell is happening to me?
Grace nodded towards a small couch against the wall. “Shall we be comfortable while we talk?”
Ethan grinned. His idea of being comfortable involved a lot less clothing, but sitting was a good start. It wasn’t likely he’d be taking her home to his cardboard box. But who knew what would happen? He’d never been so attracted to a human before. He bowed. “Excellent idea. After you.”
Keeping their gazes locked, they moved to the couch and sat close.
“What you did tonight was extraordinary,” Ethan shared. “How can you be sure the woman’s cancer is gone? Can you sense it?”
Grace smiled. “Gee, smart and gorgeous.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, my mouth seems to have a mind of its own. I’ll just go ahead and apologize in advance for anything else I might blurt out. But to answer your question, yes. I can sense it. Sort of. OK, this is going to sound weird, but it’s as if I can feel the obstructions - or misalignments - in the body or the psyche as the sound flows around and interacts with them. Then, I imagine the disruption smoothed out by the vibrations and it seems to happen.” She paused. “Now you probably think I’m a complete deviant! Not a normal person, right? You wouldn’t be the first.”
Ethan frowned. She doesn’t think she’s normal? “I think you’re incredible. I wish I had your skills. I used to sing and play music years ago, but I never explored the healing aspects of music. Your talent fascinates me.”
She shrugged. “I’ve just worked hard to build up my skills. I think anyone can heal with sound. It’s natural. You can do it, too.” She blinked a few times and stared at him, tilting her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember if you ever answered my question about whether or not we’ve met before. I swear I know your face. In fact, I dreamed about it.”
This was it. He’d run out of time to avoid the inevitable. He sighed, bracing for her horrified reaction. “What did you dream?”
She shifted her gaze to the centre of the room, ill at ease. “I dreamed I was attacked on the trail by my house. A monster with fangs pushed me down and was about to kill me, when you grabbed him and flung him aside. You stared down at me, and I thought I’d died - literally - and gone to heaven. You looked like a beautiful angel.” She laughed. “An angel wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt.” She focused her gaze on his for a few eternal seconds, her expression serious. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”
“No. It wasn’t a dream,” Ethan whispered. He stroked his hand down the side of her face.
She leaned into his touch. “What was that thing you rescued me from? How were you able to control him?” She lifted a finger and slid it across his lower lip. “You told me you aren’t an angel, but all I sense from you is good. What are you?”
He didn’t want to answer. He knew his pleasant fantasy would end the moment he said the word. Her radar must be jammed, because he was far from good. He’d never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it, but what could possibly be good about a walking corpse? He hesitated so long she cradled his face in her hands and began chanting. She closed her eyes and turned her head slightly from side to side, making glorious sounds for a moment. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she dropped her hands.
“There’s no life force present. You aren’t really here. I knew it was a dream . . .”
“This is no dream.” Ethan leaned in, pressed his lips to hers and pulled her against him. Eagerly responding, she opened her mouth for him and moaned softly, as their tongues slid together in a sensuous dance.
“Well, well. What have we here?” A deep voice rumbled in the silence. “Ethan has been a very bad boy.” Alexander - a dead ringer for a young Arnold Schwarzenegger - stood near the doorway, watching with amusement.
Ethan jerked back from Grace, his mind snapping to attention as he reacted to the sound of his master’s voice. He cringed — prepared for the worst — as he waited for Alexander to take control of him. The master enjoyed treating his offspring like puppets who existed only to do his bidding, and he seemed particularly interested in dominating Ethan. Alexander’s power was usually absolute.
“Who is this man, Ethan? Do you know him?” Grace clutched Ethan’s arm, her voice trembling, her fear saturating the air.
Ethan’s mind reeled as he tried to grasp what Alexander said. How was it possible for their bond to be weakened? Alexander was his sire, his master. He couldn’t exist without their connection. Could he? No. That wasn’t possible.
Just as Ethan opened his mouth to speak, Alexander smiled, displaying long, sharp fangs, and pulled Grace off the couch. She whimpered before going limp and silent. Alexander had taken over her mind. Ethan had seen him control humans thousands of times. Bending her backwards, as if he were performing a sensual dance move, Alexander plunged his fangs into Grace’s neck and began to suck greedily.
The sound enraged Ethan and he leaped off the couch. Grace wouldn’t survive if he didn’t act immediately.
He grabbed Alexander’s collar with all his strength and pulled hard, forcing the master’s mouth away from the ragged holes in Grace’s neck. Alexander released her and Grace crumpled to the floor, boneless. Ethan expected Alexander to attack him, but to his shock, the huge vampire laughed. He wiped his hand across his bloody mouth and licked his fingers.
“So, you want to drink the leftovers? Be my guest. She’s almost dead - you’d better hurry. I’ll deal with you later.” Alexander laughed again, turned and stalked out of the door.
Ethan dropped to his knees next to Grace. Her heartbeat was faint and crimson oozed from the torn vein. The rich smell of her blood caused his hunger to roar over him. His body shook with the struggle to resist draining her. If he used his saliva to close the wounds, he was terrified he’d lose control of himself and Grace would die. But if he didn’t, she’d die anyway.