Immortal with a Kiss

by Jacqueline Lepore

  Then they fled, moving as one mass, spilling over the windowsill and out into the blackness where I knew their master hovered unseen.

  I waited in the silence left in the wake of their departure, garnering my wits and my strength before lifting myself up off the floor. When I could move, I threw the dead rats out the window, then I shut it tight. I pressed my forehead against the glass in relief, hearing nothing but the rasp of my own breathing, how it sawed rapidly, then slowed, quieted as my heartbeat slowly returned to normal. As it did, exhaustion filled me. My limbs felt heavy as lead, and I began to notice the pain from the bites. Heaving myself away from the window, I lit the lamp and inspected the wounds in the small pier glass.

  They were not terribly serious; at least none appeared to require stitching. I washed each bite thoroughly, wincing at the sting when the cold water hit them. I would find some medicines in the apothecary tomorrow. For tonight, I did not think I could move, even to defend myself should the rats return.

  I climbed into bed, but I did not feel safe. The vampire had gone for now. I had surprised him by fighting. He had not suspected I was a hunter.

  But he would be back, in some manner, to get revenge. Neophyte though I was in the ways of the undead, I did know that much, and I vowed to myself that I must never allow myself to be caught unawares again.

  Chapter Ten

  “I have no idea why I was the target of such an attack,” I told Sebastian the following afternoon as we sat in his room at the inn. I’d come here as soon as I could get away. “I was able to drive it off only because I caught it off guard.”

  We were seated at the small table and chairs by the window. In the corner of the room, Father Luke lay fully dressed upon the bed. “It knows you are Dhampir now,” he growled, his voice rough from his illness. “It is far more dangerous for you.”

  I smiled wanly. “It can kill me for one reason as well as the other.”

  Sebastian would not break his solemn look. “But what was the reason of the attack if not your being Dhampir?”

  My smile faded. “I wish I knew. Then perhaps I’d have some clue to this entire mystery.”

  Sebastian sighed. His eyes flickered over me as he frowned. “Are you certain you do not wish me to look at those bites? You are certain you washed them thoroughly?”

  I touched one of the bandages. I’d raided the apothecary closet that morning. “Yes, and salved each one before sealing them under a bandage. Do not worry, Sebastian. Our stillroom maid at home was talented at making medicines and instructed me well.”

  Father Luke rose up laboriously off the bed. “The vampire was afraid of you, you say.”

  “I said it was surprised,” I clarified, then thought about this. “I suppose it was afraid. It ran off, didn’t it? It was caught off its guard when it realized what I was.”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. I saw his big, blunt-fingered hand still held a tremor, if only a slight one these days. “The Dhampir is rare, of course. No vampire makes the strigoii vii lightly, nor do they leave one of them unattended.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, for I had read of this as well when I was at the archive. “The vampire world has great fear of us children. We are its only natural enemy.”

  Father Luke gripped the bedpost as he made his way toward us. “That is what I do not understand. If a Dhampir is identified, the news spreads quickly through revenant society so that all might beware.”

  I tensed, ready to rise to go to his aid, but Sebastian stopped me with a single raised finger and a quick shake of his head. I reluctantly remained in my seat.

  Father Luke said, “Why was the news of you kept secret?”

  “Wait,” Sebastian said impatiently. “You forget I have not studied at a secret archive.” He raised his eyebrows at me, then turned to Father Luke. “Nor am I member of a secret Vatican society of vampire extirpators. Please explain to me why those like Emma are rare.”

  “There is the belief,” the priest said, his voice wheezing with the effort it took him to remain on his feet. Still, Sebastian made no move to help him. “There is the belief,” Father Luke repeated, “that vampires prefer to kill their victims when they initiate them. This is not true, although it can happen. The strigoii mort, which we have told you about, is such a creature. It is to guard against this possibility why precautions are taken when a person dies under mysterious circumstances.”

  “Well, of course.” Sebastian looked from me to Father Luke. “I recall the story you told of the gypsy that attacked you in Avebury, Emma. What was his name? Wadim?”

  “Yes, he was one of Marius’s minions. But he had been made strigoii vii first. That is the way the vampire prefers to do it, because to transform a person without giving it time to acclimate to its undead existence is very dangerous. The creatures that result are useful only as soldiers—they are vicious beyond imagining, although once trained they can be fiercely loyal.”

  “So it is not typical for a person to be killed by a vampire, then rise from the dead,” Sebastian said. “I don’t believe I understood that completely before. After all, it is how most of the legends have it, isn’t it?”

  “From the most primitive cultures, there has always been the knowledge of the vampire,” Father Luke agreed. “Some of the particulars vary. In India, it is said Kali wears a necklace of skulls and has four arms. The Greek vrykolakas is believed to ape human behavior. In Scotland, boabhan-sithe are wild, uncivilized flesh-eaters.” He nodded to me, adding, “You have studied all of this?”

  “I have,” I replied. “I have found, however, that when one looks closely, one sees commonalities.”

  Father Luke looked feverish as he grinned. “Of course, for their nature does not change any more than a human being is a different creature from another person with different customs and culture.”

  His eyes were bright, almost glazed. I grew concerned at this, then thought that perhaps it was not so much his illness (it was charitable to call what afflicted him an illness and I much preferred to think of it that way) but the intensity of his thoughts. His passions ran deep and hot on the subject of the vampire. Whatever loss he had experienced in his faltering faith, his dedication to eradicating the undead was not part of it.

  “What are you thinking?” I inquired, suddenly aware that he had a theory he was in the process of sorting out.

  “Among those traits all of the undead have in common is their propensity to fashion companions for themselves. The compulsion, even though it puts them at great risk, weakens them and makes them vulnerable while they recover their strength.”

  “Companions?” Sebastian said, his voice squeaking with alarm. “Do you mean like mates?” His powdered complexion grew paler, his eyes wide with horror. “My God, they mate?”

  I patted his hand. “Not in the sense we think. They cannot reproduce, you know. They are dead, Sebastian.”

  “It is their great failing,” Father Luke said. His eyes were hollow, his jaw too lean. The addiction had ravaged his once-powerful form, but had not blunted the sheer magnitude of the man. “Indeed, they need that nearly as much as they need blood. It makes them stupid and often careless, this great, burning need to not be alone.”

  “So they make . . . families?” Sebastian asked, incredulous. “Is that what you are saying? Families of undead?”

  “Imagine the loneliness if you could never tell a single one of your thoughts to another,” I said, attempting to explain. “Or laugh at a shared amusement, or be appreciated, or feel pride at the admiration of another for your intellect or accomplishment.”

  “I never thought those creatures felt anything,” he groused.

  “They do. The great lords do, certainly. That is why they take the great risk to make the strigoii vii. When a person becomes the living vampire, he retains his personality and all which made him unique. The strigoii vii are aware, thinking, even feeling beings. They are vampire, make no mistake, but in the aspect of their intellect and emotions they are human. Thus, when t
hey die, their passage to the undead, the truly undead, is gentle, expected, anticipated, and they become sentient beings. They desire to form bonds, to connect and live with at least one comrade, usually their creator. After all, what creature, alive or undead, would wish to face eternity without the comforts of others like themselves?”

  Sebastian seemed to be having a difficult time ingesting all of this. He shook his head as if confused. “If all this is so, and they yearn for the company of one another so badly, then why are there not whole cities of these fiends?”

  Father Luke laughed, a low, vicious sound. “Ah, you forget their downfall, Sebastian: they are evil. You have only to consider what sort of person consents to the three bites. The weak, those without conscience, those who are already evil, the worst of humanity, by and large. And so they take their proclivities with them into their revenant life. Therefore, they are flawed, antisocial, unable to trust and be trusted, and so they are fated to create an unstable society filled with betrayal and strife, with constant feuding and chaos among their ranks.”

  “Well, that is a relief.” Sebastian let out a breath. “It is good to know they have such a fatal weakness. Did you know all of this, Emma?”

  “I knew some of these facts, but my time at the archive had not permitted me to delve into the matter to this much degree. I admit, Father Luke, your conclusions about the inherently doomed world of the undead are illuminating, as well as heartening. But I have to wonder how it applies to our situation here at Blackbriar?”

  He chuckled, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Ah, yes. I did digress, didn’t I?” It was plain to see he was tiring. He even wavered, causing Sebastian to bolt to his feet and say, “You are going to exhaust yourself. Go on back to bed now. We will continue this discussion later.”

  “I am not returning to that bed,” Father Luke said, and lowered himself into the seat Sebastian had vacated.

  I was surprised Sebastian did not insist, for I could tell he was still concerned. “Very well. You may stay at the table if you do not exert yourself.”

  A snort from the priest preceded his very mildly spoken “Why, thank you.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes.

  “As we mentioned, the making of a new strigoii vii is of great impact in the vampire world for precisely the reasons you noted, Emma. Naturally, word of such a deed spreads quickly. There is, as noted, potential danger to all vampires from a future foe in the form of any child born to that living vampire. I need not go into great explanation on how the revenant world hates and fears the Dhampir. So all know of the strigoii vii. All know of any children from them.”

  Understanding dawned. I saw the same understanding come into Sebastian’s eyes as he turned to stare at me in amazement. “But he did not know about you,” he said.

  That was right. Yes. I never realized the import of that fact before. “Neither did Marius, not until he and I met face to face,” I added.

  Sebastian looked from Father Luke back to me. “So that means . . . ? What? We could have assumed all along they didn’t know about you, Emma, or else they would have killed you long ago.”

  I shook my head. “My understanding is that it is not easy to kill my kind. Even as children, the gifts we possess are formidable and arise instinctively in the presence of a vampire. That is what eventually happened to me in Avebury. But the important thing from this is to understand that if the vampire world is not aware of me, then that must mean . . .” I was suddenly overcome, my heart pounding as the words choked in my throat.

  “What?” Sebastian demanded impatiently.

  I swallowed, cleared the lump, and said, “It means my mother’s existence is also unknown to them.”

  “She was made by a pariah,” Father Luke stated, fatigue making his voice light and soft.

  “A pariah,” I repeated. “An outlaw vampire?”

  Father Luke gave Sebastian and me a grave look, and said, “All pariahs are marked for destruction by the terrible Dragon Prince, the Dracula.”

  “After Marius discovered what I was,” I said slowly, comprehension dawning, “the word would have spread—about me, and about my mother. Yet, this vampire knows nothing of Laura or me.”

  “More questions, and no more answers,” Sebastian said soberly.

  I sighed. “Very well, let us drop the subject for now. Sebastian, I will miss supper tonight when I return to school. Would you mind getting some cold meats for a quick meal here before I leave? I would do it myself, but I am attempting to avoid Mrs. Danby. You know how she disapproves of our meeting privately in your rooms.”

  Rolling his eyes, he sighed heavily in exasperation. “I am your cousin and he is a priest—what impropriety is there in that? Lud, that woman is a trial. Meddlesome baggage, she is.” He headed for the door, still heated. “If it were not for her cooking, I would pitch a tent in the field behind the stable before I’d stay in this inn.”

  When the door closed, I angled an assessing look at Father Luke. “Your knowledge of vampires—of the entire revenant world—has grown considerably. I’ll wager you did not study at one of the archives, so how did you learn so fast?”

  His hands, set on the table, clenched into white-knuckled fists and his mouth contorted with shame. “I set out to find answers when I left you at Avebury. I was . . . Well, you and I spoke at the church, after it was over. You know what frame my mind was in at that time.” His eyes narrowed, squinting into two fine lines. “I wanted answers. The Church refused to give them to me, so I decided to find my own.

  “The lower-order fiends seek their society in the hells of great cities where the unfortunate and refuse of humanity mingle in unimaginable conditions. There they are free to feed off those who will never be missed. I found them easily enough.”

  “What do you know of the Dracula?”

  “Ah, that. He is quite a mysterious figure.” He shook his head. “I am afraid I must disappoint you for I know no more than what I have already said. Which is nothing but a name.”

  “I was not able to find out more than that in my research. Even the archive contains little. Marius undoubtedly had a connection to him, but I was never able to discover it.” A thought dawned on me and I looked at him in amazement. “You said you talked to vampires? How in the world did you manage that?”

  “Brutal methods, I am afraid.” His tone was flat, unapologetic. “Remember, I was dealing with lower orders, not the more evolved. I simply tortured them until they told me what I wished to know.”

  “Tortured them?” I must have sounded shocked, for he laughed.

  “You forget, I am still a priest,” he told me. “I have powers, too.”

  I thought for a moment, then dared to ask, “Are you still a priest?”

  The question caught him off guard. He took a moment to answer. “I love God. But the Church? I hate the ignorance and the power-mongering. I do not trust the part of it that is comprised of men—fallible, flawed men who are as subject to avarice and pride as the rest of us. But . . .” He paused, and seemed to realize something. “I cannot let it go. If you knew what it had meant to me, once . . .” He shook his head, as if ridding himself of this reflection as a dog might shed droplets of water. “It saved me. Not just my life, either, Emma. No, I am not leaving the priesthood. It is who I am. But I am not staying, not as I was. I am in my own little limbo, a purgatory of uncertainty.”

  He leaned in. His gaze was keen. “You said once that we were friends. I did not believe it then, but I came here because I knew you’d been right. After everything else failed me, you did not. We are friends. And friends should tell each other the truth.” He smiled, and his smile was so warm and genuine, my heart wrenched. Here was the ghost of the man I’d known still alive inside the broken shell. “I can get my vestments if you like. I recall you found solace in the sacrament of Penance, though you are not Catholic.”

  I laughed, easier now. “No, no vestments, father. It is nothing to cause concern. It is just—about the strigoii vii being
willing. I knew, of course, that this is the typical way a person is transformed, but what of others, who had not submitted willingly to the bite?”

  “You speak of Mr. Fox.”

  I started, aghast at his knowledge of Valerian’s condition. “You know?”

  “It was not a difficult deduction to make. But never mind about him, this is not what is on your mind, I can tell by your reaction. What was it you came to know?”

  I took a moment to compose myself. “My mother had to agree, did she not? She became strigoii vii and that means she had to give her consent.”

  “Oh, Emma,” he said, his face contorting into a wince. “I am sorry. I did not realize.”

  “I think she changed her mind later, but when I spoke to my father’s friend who was there during that period of her supposed ‘madness,’ he told me of a woman who wanted my father and sought to make my mother jealous. This happened at the onset of her illness. In a weak moment, she could have been seduced and said yes to the vampire in her desolation. I had not thought of it before, you see, about her being willing. But now I . . .” The words dammed up in my throat.

  His hand, still strong, closed over mine. Its heat was as comforting as a blazing fire on winter’s coldest day. “You must believe you will find your answers. In time.”

  “But what if . . .” What if they are horrible truths that I must face? What if my mother was not tragic, not reluctant, but one of the weak, evil ones Father Luke had spoken of ? What if she had gladly traded her humanity for the chance to live forever?

  Sebastian stomped into the room just then, muttering a tirade of epithets against the innkeeper. “I nearly had to wrestle the tray out of her hand! Stubborn woman,” he raged.

  The tirade was the perfect cure for my sadness. I made a fuss over the assorted meats, a fine loaf of crusty bread, and a carafe of Mrs. Danby’s homemade wine. Father Luke rose, intent on retuning to the bed, but I scolded him soundly and he stayed, eating under my supervision while Sebastian gloated. “We shall gang up against you, you brute,” he said with satisfaction. “You will be snapping tree trunks like twigs in no time.”