by Mason Sabre
“I don’t know.” It was always hard to tell if anyone was home. Not all of them had cars. Troy wouldn’t be home for sure, and even if Raven had managed to get through to him, he’d have found her by now. For the first time, Yvette found herself thankful for the fact that Troy and his crew had strict instructions not to have their phones on during their shift. Due to the nature of their work, a random call at the wrong time could mean death for any of them.
“How many reside here?”
“There are six of us.” That wasn’t including her children. They were still Human; only she and Troy had crossed over so far. But her children would one day. She didn’t want to ever have to watch them leave this world, so she would fight with everything in her till they agreed to change over.
“Who was in charge?”
Yvette frowned. Was? I guess he already thought of himself as master of his home again. Would he be throwing them all out onto the street soon?
“No one.”
She watched as he stood there with his hands on his hips staring up at the house. How grand it must have been years ago when he had last looked upon it. But now it was run-down. Not really a place for vampires—not even a place for the homeless. Even the rats left it untouched.
“They allow vampires to have freedom now?”
Yvette rose from the wall and stood next to Henry. “No. Not really.”
“I may have been imprisoned for three centuries, but I am not a fool.”
Yvette signed. “No one is left. We are aging. I was twenty-three when I was turned.”
He cocked his head and looked at her, then tilted her head back with a finger under her chin and frowned. “Twenty-three ...” he mused. “Forgive me, but you look …”
“In my forties?” she said, repeating the girl’s words from earlier on.
“It is not my place to guess a lady’s age, but I would not have deemed you to be of such maturity. Perhaps closer to that of a lady of a house.”
She snorted and brought her hands to her face. How old did he think ladies of houses looked? In his day and age, it must have … She paused with her hands over her cheeks, and her heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be. They were smoother, the creases and wrinkles she had acquired seeming to have vanished. She pressed her hands to her mouth, ran them along her forehead and around her eyes. The lines that had formed there were now gone, as were the crinkles around her lips. She dashed to the car and shoved the side view mirror on the door back. She gaped at her reflection, unable to believe her eyes, and scared to look away in case it changed again. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered in awe, staring at the young girl she had been when she had first entered immortality. She swivelled around to stare at him with wide eyes. “This is because you fed, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” he said dismissively. “I wish to see the interior now.”
Elated, Yvette pushed the mirror straight and grinned. She was a normal vampire at last—a young, non-aging, immortal vampire. She just wanted this moment to enjoy the changes. She couldn’t stop touching her face as she walked. She held her hands and arms out in front of her just to see the backs of her hands and how soft and smooth the skin looked. God. She couldn’t stop staring at it. “Thank you,” she said to Henry. He didn’t respond, clearly indifferent to the fact that Yvette had just changed from looking forty to looking twenty-three again. She was so excited, though, she really didn’t care.
The front door had not been opened in a long time—no one used it. She led him around the back of the house, to the entrance they all preferred. It was a little better inside, but not much. She kept hers and Troy’s area as clean as possible. Just because she was a creature of the night didn’t mean that suddenly she would live in a dark, dank cellar. She led him in through the kitchen, which, at one time, would have been magnificent. The kind of kitchen that was always busy, with maybe two cooks. Wooden work surfaces now stood empty, gone of life and the need for food. The only things in use were the refrigerator, the freezer, and the microwave. It was all they needed. Henry’s eyes took in everything. He stared at the lights, and asked Yvette to show him how to ‘light’ them. He stared with great interest when she illustrated how to switch them on and off.
There was a large table in the centre surrounded by chairs. It had one chair that matched the rest but was much taller than the others. Henry hesitated, then ran his fingers along the edges. Had he once sat at this table? Had he and his Mary sat and enjoyed breakfast here? Maybe this was where she had been murdered, she thought with a heavy heart.
Henry followed her silently as she led him into the next room. This was the part she and Troy had claimed. They had decorated it as best they could, but they hadn’t touched the large fireplace. Beautifully lined around the edges with tree cuttings. Troy had done his best to restore it.
The paintwork around the windows was chipped, peeling away from years of damage from the sun. But the curtains that hung were thick, ready for when the sun came up in the morning, blocking out the dangerous rays and protecting its inhabitants. Henry went to the fireplace and stared at it for a long moment before finally saying, “I made this. Mary wanted a fire to sit by when the winter came in.”
Her heart broke for him. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? Her death was not your fault.”
“It is just what people say when a person has lost someone they love. They say they are sorry.”
This home was more Henry’s than it was Yvette’s. She could see that now as he stood there. It fitted him and he fitted it. She had never really felt she fit her anyway. Maybe because the house had always been waiting for its real master to return. Yvette’s real home was in the south, where more Humans than Others lived. Where she had been chased from. Her son, Brian, had taken over the house when he had married Sarah. It had been hard for them. The house was marked off as that of an Other, one who needed slaughtering because they had once been Human. Humans did not care for crossovers. They were worse than naturally born Others. At least it wasn’t choice for them. But for people like Yvette, who had purposely chosen to become another species, Human society considered them an atrocity.
“This is your family?” Henry was looking at a picture above the fireplace. She had replaced the one that had hung there before and put up hers.
“Yes.”
“They still live?”
Yvette nodded as she came over to look at it with Henry. “This is Brian, my eldest. He lives with his wife. This one,” she pointed to the girl, “is my daughter, Mindy. She does not live far from here.” She hadn’t brought Mindy to live with them—a nest of vampires was no place for a young girl—but she wanted her safe and close. “And this is my son, Eric.” She pointed to the last boy. “He is the one who struggles the most. He wants us to turn him, but I want him to mature, live some of his life first, so that he understands his choices.”
Henry moved from the picture without a word and went to the next room. That was the bedroom she and Troy shared. Like everything else, it was different now.
“Did you have children?” Yvette asked as she followed him. Henry stopped, his shoulders rigid. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
“They took my child,” he said. “Took her from her mother’s womb and feasted on her flesh.”
Yvette sucked in a sharp breath. Oh my god. “I’m so sorry.” Her stomach knotted at his words and the stone cold expression on his face. His eyes flashed with pain momentarily, but then it was gone just as fast.
When he had finished walking through the rest of the house, pausing at anything new and strange, Yvette showed him back to the kitchen. Maybe he could feed again.
“What is this?” he asked when she went to the fridge.
“We keep blood in there.”
His frown deepened, and he wrapped his hands around the handle to open it. “You put people in here?”
“No,” she said, trying to keep her face straight. She showed him by pulling out one of the bags of blood. “This. Do you want some?”
He took the bag from her, turning it over in his hand. “You drink it in this manner?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps this is the real reason why you are aging? This blood is cold.”
“Let me show you.” She took the bag from him and popped it into the microwave beside him. She clicked buttons and turned it on, the inside illuminating and the plate turning.
He stared as if in a trance.
“This is an oven.”
He frowned at the glass. “An oven with no fire?”
The microwave beeped and Yvette popped the door open. She pulled the bag out and snipped the corner. "Drink?"
“You do not drink from a person?”
“Not anymore.”
Henry took the bag from her, holding it a little too tight and the blood ran down the outside and down his hand. She caught the bag before he wasted it all.
“Not too tight.”
The blood that had spilled onto his hand soaked into his starving flesh. He clenched his fist and opened it again, his fingers moving in a wave. "That blood is dead." He raised his gaze to Yvette’s, and again she was struck by how extraordinarily beautiful his eyes were. They seemed alive. Shades of unimaginable blues swirled in their depths. “Where is the girl?”
Yvette blinked. Would he still want to harm her? Even now that he seemed to be in perfect health. “You can’t kill her.”
Henry edged closer, his hand rising to cup Yvette’s jaw. He tilted her head backwards, and her lips parted involuntarily as he ran his other hand along the side of her face. She felt frozen to the spot, unable to move, her body at his command. He took her hand and placed it at the centre of his chest, where his heart was. A small gasp left her lips. It was beating … Vampire hearts didn’t beat. Yvette dropped the bag of blood she was holding, its contents splattering on the tiles at their feet.
“You are one of my children,” he breathed.
Yvette could do nothing but stare at him. She was alive in her own body, but her body wasn’t hers. Hunger rose inside, creating an ache in her jaw.
“Take me to the girl.
Yvette nodded.
Chapter Six
Yvette found herself in the parking lot to Raven’s bar, hardly remembering how she had got there. It was quiet. Deathly quiet. The only car in the parking lot was hers, the doors to the bar all locked up. She wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but everything had been deserted. The soft creak of the seat next to her brought her back to earth abruptly. She turned to stare at the vampire sitting on the passenger side with a bewildered look on her face. What had just happened? How had she got here?
Henry.
Her fuzzy mind tried to grasp onto what had happened. Her memories of these last moments seemed to be hiding in her mind around a corner. She could almost grasp them.
“This is the place?”
The place? Yes. This was the place, wasn’t it? “I think so.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet. She rubbed her hands over her face, catching the palm of her hand on the tip of her fang and grazing it. They were fully extended. Strange. “We have to go around back.” She clamped her hand over her mouth. Why the hell was she saying this stuff to him. She was hand feeding the girl to him. Shit. Turn the key and drive away, turn the key and drive away. Even as she chanted the words in her head, her hand reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Her body moved without command, following a sequence of movements that were automatic. She was powerless to stop them—an observer in her own body. She stepped out of the car and closed the door, calmly locking it behind her as if she were simply coming in to work. The front doors would be locked—Raven wouldn’t open those now, not even if the place was burning down …Anyone who visited him would know to go around back to his private door—although, right now, he would still be in the bar, with the girl.
She led Henry around to the back of the bar, her mind screaming for her to stop, but her legs kept moving her forwards, her mouth not uttering a word of protest. He placed a hand on Yvette’s shoulder to stop her before they got to the door to the cellar. “There is a thing in there.” Contempt laced his words.
“Raven owns the bar. He is a shifter.”
“A raven? He can turn into a bird?”
“No. He can’t,” she murmured. Yvette gave a shake of her head and blinked, the fogginess beginning to wane a little. She didn’t remember drinking or getting drunk, but it sure as hell felt like she’d had a skinful of hard liquor ... Realisation set in.
Henry.
He had done this. He’d bloody mind fucked her. She glared at him. “You took over my mind, didn’t you?”
He looked at her with a complete lack of remorse.
“You can’t just do that. You can’t just violate people’s minds, bend their will like this.”
“I am your master. It is my place to do as I please.”
Anger rose up at his words. The master of any vampire community was indeed venerated and held in high esteem—treated as Humans would treat their king, or Others their alpha—but that didn’t mean he had the right to desecrate her mind. “I don’t like it.”
“It is not your place to like anything,” he said flatly.
Bastard. Piece of shit. Yvette’s skin burned. It didn’t matter whether he was king of the world, he couldn’t do these things to his people. It was dangerous. Someone could be made to do anything—she could be made to do anything. She wouldn’t stand for it again. If the Humans found out about Henry and the kind of power he held, he would be torn in two and buried—again. His last episode would seem like nothing. “If you did that to a Human ... she gritted out.”
“Humans are just frightened creatures.”
“She shook her head at him. “You don’t understand. It isn’t how you remember. They have weapons. They’ll stake you for shit like that.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “They would drive a stake through my heart on what grounds?”
“No one does the ‘mind hypnosis thing’ anymore. It isn’t allowed. No one can …” Yvette’s voice trailed off. She suddenly realised what a sorry race they had become; how much power they had allowed the Humans to have over them. She felt ashamed to admit it to Henry. In his day, vampires were a thing to fear. They had laws and regulations of their own, which meant boundaries they could not step over, but no Human had had the power, or had ever dared to control them. How things had changed.
“You are vampires in my line,” he said haughtily. “Thus, as your master, it is allowed.” His tone was condescending, as if needing to explain such mundane matters to her was beneath him.
“It isn’t right, nor polite, to do it, though,” she insisted, then comprehended how ridiculous that sounded. She was talking about ‘right and polite’ to a centuries-old vampire who had just massacred a small group of Humans for ‘waking’ him.
His beautiful face was hard as he stared at her with cold eyes. “Give me the girl.”
Yvette’s heart sped up and desperation streaked through her. “You can’t kill her,” she pleaded. “They will lock you up again.”
He scowled at her, as if unable to understand her fear of lowly mortals. “They are mere Humans.”
“Don’t you realise? It is different now. They have special weapons that make it easy for them to catch you. They will put you back in one of those tombs again. Longer. What will you wake to the next time? Maybe your entire line will be dead.
“That is not my concern.” Henry tilted his head so that he was facing the wind. It ruffled his short hair, making Yvette marvel once more at the incredible beauty of him. It was a pity he wasn’t as charming on the inside, she thought heatedly. “I can smell her. She is close.” He breathed in deeply. “I can find her without your help.”
Yvette jogged alongside him as he strode towards the steps at the back of the bar. Shit. Had Raven taken her to his apartment at the back? One thing was for certain, he would never allow the girl to be harmed. He would kill Henry first.
Henry
made his way up the stairs, his fine shoes clanging against the metal steps as he went. The door to the cellar was yanked open, and Raven emerged—tall, broad, his presence filling the doorway. Yvette squeezed in front of Henry, suddenly feeling extremely small trapped between the two large men.
Raven’s eyes fell on her, a flash of shock crossing his features at her changed, youthful countenance, quickly supplanted by relief that she was okay. A spike of guilt stabbed through her at the worry she no doubt had put him through. Satisfied she was unhurt in any way, he pinned his gaze on Henry. Yvette knew his shifter senses had already informed him what Henry was. “Is everything okay?” he asked her, even though his eyes didn’t shift from the vampire standing before him. She knew she’d be getting an earful from him later, but she’d deal with that then.
Animosity emanated from Henry as he stared back at Raven, his entire body tensing in loathing and disdain. “T-This is Henry,” she said nervously. “He …”
“I have come for the girl,” he snarled.
Raven stepped out into the darkness, keeping his arm across the door. His message was simple—Henry was not getting in. Still, a vampire was not allowed entry into one’s home, unless he was invited in—as Raven well knew—so the gesture was really all about showing he was not afraid of him, and his way of telling him to go fuck himself. “Are you the one who did this to her?” Raven said bluntly, ignoring his demand.
Yvette tensed, hoping to god there wasn't about to be any confrontation. While vampires were preternaturally strong, they were no match for a shifter's strength. On the other hand, fast as he was, Raven did not possess the kind of speed they did. And after seeing the destruction that Henry had caused at the graveyard, she had no desire to see what kind of damage he could cause to a shifter.
Henry's lip curled in derision and, for an awful moment, Yvette feared he would attack Raven. To her relief, he climbed back down the steps, then turned to look at Yvette. “I must finish what was started. She woke me,” he growled.
