by Chism, Holly
“I’d say that called for some stronger language, myself,” Richmond agreed.
“Okay, what am I missing?” I asked.
“Knowledge,” Richmond said grimly. “Until recently, we had thought the line all male. We’d never found, or heard of, a child of this line that wasn’t male before you appeared. And we’d thought him the last of it, save for you.”
“We’ve been working for the extinction of this line for almost a thousand years,” the stranger said tiredly. “And now, this makes me wonder if we’ve just been culling the stupid ones.”
I cringed. “That is not a good thought.”
Richmond glanced over at the clock. “Meg, I will be stepping out with Risto for the next while. I need to replace my own laptop, now that the fine has been paid.”
“Fine?” I said, pausing on my way to the bathroom.
He grinned, all teeth and sharpness. “Why, yes. Anyone who destroys the belongings of someone in my position because they don’t like the way I’ve ruled on an issue is fined twenty times the value of the property destroyed. That would be my laptop and my car.”
“I thought you said your car was in the shop when you arrived,” I said.
“Oh, it was,” he said cheerfully. “The mechanics were attempting to determine if it was even capable of being repaired. It wasn’t. That was part of what delayed payment of the fines.”
I shuddered. “Lovely. I would assume that there’s some mechanism by which to extract your pound of flesh if the money for the fine isn’t available.”
“Yes, and it’s quite unpleasant,” the aforenamed Risto agreed, grinning amicably—on the surface. “Lovely to meet you, my dear. We must sit and chat, later this evening or tomorrow. I have a goodly savings account that simply isn’t performing as I’d like it to, and I’ve heard that you are an investments accountant.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I am,” I said slowly. This felt odd. I hadn’t been approached about creating an account for anyone other than via electronic means for as long as I’d been in business by myself. “I don’t usually meet clients face to face, but I’m happy to make exceptions for…others who dwell in darkness.”
He chuckled. “Witty and poetic. Your sire is a fool.”
“I won’t argue with you there,” I muttered as I headed for the hot shower I could hear hissing my name.
The shower felt incredibly good.
So did the fleecy jammies I’d decided to wear tonight. To hell with the professional outfit I’d picked out and hung in the bathroom.
I went upstairs and headed into my library, my laptop tucked under my arm. I set the computer down on the seat of the chair I preferred next to the fireplace, and started a fire before I went to start the coffeemaker. I woke up the desktop, pulled up my mass email list for my clients once it was up and running, and fired off the email with a request for if they’d be interested in an electronic newsletter, instead of sending the actual newsletter I’d put together.
Yes, I’d chickened out. So sue me.
I heard Andi’s Mustang pulling very slowly into the driveway, and glanced out the window to see more snow coming down, falling thickly in massive flakes that glowed and sparkled in the artificial light of the yard light. And I shuddered. Snow like that was a stone bitch to drive in, no matter how pretty it was to watch come down. I wished I could have cocoa after my coffee, and just watch the snow. The coffee and investments management while I watched from my desk would just have to do.
Andi stomped her feet on the porch, Ray’s distinctive, almost-tap-dance stomping joining in. I waited for the interior door to close, and for the coat closet door to open and close. “Guys? I’ve built a fire in here,” I called. “Come in and warm up before you head off for other things.”
Andi bustled in and plopped on the floor, her back to the fireplace, and looked up at me. “Did you know,” she said slowly, “that your houseguest was expecting delivery of a packaged vampire in an extra-large storage tub?”
I snickered at the images that brought to mind. It really was awfully funny. “No, and neither did he,” I said. “My guest didn’t get the email ‘til he woke up. Whatever time that was.”
“Oh, that’s not the best part,” Ray said. “The best part is when the storage tub politely asked to be carried down into the basement, to have a conference with Richmond. Andi screamed, scrambled backwards, and fell up the stairs. It was glorious.”
Andi glowered. “How would you have reacted?” she asked sweetly. “Oh, wait, I remember, now. You had to sit down on the floor and put your head between your knees after you screamed louder than I did.”
Ray snickered. “Yeah, and now that we’re five hours past that shock, it’s funny. Wasn’t then, is now.”
I shook my head fondly. “You two are nuts. Want some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Ray said. He stepped away from the fireplace and glanced at Andi. “Two mugs?”
“Yeah,” she said. He nodded and started out of the room. “And grab a cocoa packet for me to add to mine, if you don’t mind.”
“Not only do I not mind, I think I’ll do the same,” he tossed over his shoulder.
I pulled my legs up into the chair with me and curled up criss-cross applesauce with the laptop on the normally cleared part of the desk. Working on the desktop was fine, but working on different things on different machines made everything go faster.
*
I woke again, knowing I was dreaming again, and groaned. Ass-face invading my dreams. Again.
“I’ve been patient.” Heavy breathing—great, he was angry. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. “I’ve been kind. You are not cooperating. You will tell me what I want to know, you worthless cunt!” His volume had built to a roar by the end of his tirade.
I ignored him. Maybe he’d go away when he got frustrated enough.
It didn’t work.
Hard hands grabbed me by the hair and back of my left thigh as he swung me up off the couch, spun, and smashed me down onto my coffee table, shattering it. I grabbed a largish sliver and rolled, trying to get away from him.
Attempting to flee didn’t work, any more than ignoring him had. He reached down in the debris and grabbed me by the throat, hauling me out of the rubbish. He snarled in my face, showing his fangs and half-choking me with his bad breath, and stomped over to the wall, slamming my back into it and squeezing my trachea.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t either, but was acting like it hadn’t crossed his mind. He pulled me away from the wall and slammed me against it again, stepping in close to snarl demands into my face. “Tell me what they’re planning, hag,” he snarled. Without letting up on his grip on my throat. The idiot. Even if I’d been willing to speak, I couldn’t with him cutting off the air I needed for my vocal cords to work.
I tightened my hand around the shard of wood in my hand, and brought my hand sharply up, jamming the end into his side hard enough that I rammed half of the eighteen inch length of wood up through probably at least a kidney.
He gasped, and staggered back, letting me drop to the floor. And he faded from my dream.
I woke up for real. My throat hurt, and I had some type of fluid on my hand.
The stranger Richmond had called Risto was leaning over me, gathering me into his arms. I flailed, screaming hoarsely. He flinched and dropped me. “Calmly, woman,” he gasped. “I was only moving you—what happened?” he interrupted himself, his eyes fixed on my neck.
“Ass-face,” I croaked. “What else?”
Risto knelt next to the couch, stroking my hair out of my face. “Oh, child,” he sighed, taking my right hand—the messy one—then freezing at the feel of the wet goo on it. He picked my hand up and looked. “That’s blood. How did you get vampire blood on your hand?”
I gestured for my laptop. “Hurts to talk,” I whispered.
He grimaced, and handed me the little red laptop I’d ordered from Amazon, the little computer I’d been using more than I did my deskto
p. I pulled up Word and wrote out everything from my dream (one handed—I did NOT want to get that on my keyboard), then a small protest that I’d drank the vial Richmond had given me of his blood because I wanted ass-face out of my dreams.
And then I handed my laptop back to Risto, so that he could read what I’d typed up to explain what had happened. Went to the sink and used dish soap to get the drying, tacky blood off of my hand. Went to my small refrigerator/microwave combination, and pulled out a blood bag. I dumped the entire thing into a pint coffee mug and warmed it.
“I see,” Risto said, setting aside the laptop on my unbroken coffee table. “That’s unfortunate. It seems Richmond isn’t stronger than Williams. In fact, he may not be as strong as Williams.”
I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head. Risto rolled his eyes. “Your sire. I shall not use the same crass language you’ve used to name him.”
I shrugged, and pulled my mug from the microwave. Warmth spread from the first sip, and the second concentrated that warmth on my throat. The third sip had the soreness starting to recede. “I never knew his name,” I said hoarsely. “Where’s Richmond?”
“He spent the night at Walmart, attempting what you suggested,” Risto said absently. “As much as it goes against his personal morals, it was one of the only chances he saw.”
“I think he failed,” I said after another sip.
“I hope he’s survived,” Risto said gravely.
I winced. “I think ass-face is more likely to run and hide than fight someone his equal, or near it,” I said. “He only ever really attacks women, and only human women smaller than him, at that.”
“This is true,” Risto said. “Even the victims that are not feeding his serial killer side are women, and smaller than he.”
“Richmond might be hurt, but likely by accident, and only so that ass-face could get away,” I said.
“I hope you’re correct in that,” Risto said gravely. “For now, we can only wait. And break your bond with your sire, if you’re willing to take my blood instead.”
I finished the mug of blood, feeling the bruising that hadn’t registered until my throat had healed start to fade. “I’m willing,” I said shortly. “Taking Richmond’s allowed him to sort-of see past ass-face’s abilities.”
Risto raised a brow. “Truly?” I nodded, and he smiled. It wasn’t a warm and kind expression. “Tell me if you feel a pressure around your solar plexus, then a snap. My blood won’t override your line, but it should cut the connection between you and your sire.”
I nodded. And stopped breathing. His gaze sharpened, and he looked around. I took a breath and smiled. “Tell me if you can see me when I do that after I drink your blood.”
He pulled a vial from his pocket, and nicked his finger on the sharp edge, bleeding perhaps a teaspoon into the vial before he licked the cut in his finger, sealing it. He handed me the vial, and watched as I drank it (then rinsed the vial thoroughly). I gasped as I felt the pressure—try a fist to the guts driving the air out of me—a harder stretch than Richmond’s blood had trigger, then a snap. “I felt that,” I said breathlessly. “I didn’t feel anything even close to that when I took the vial from Richmond—just a stretch, not pressure, or a snap.”
“I’m a good bit older and quite a lot stronger,” Risto said, watching me intently. “Now, please demonstrate your line.”
I smiled—it felt ugly, sharp, and dangerous—and stopped breathing. Stopped trying to be noticed. His smile as his gaze remained fixed on mine was the same. “I do believe we have a resounding success,” he said, satisfied.
I sighed, and slouched. “Is it safe for me to go back to sleep?” I asked plaintively.
“It should be,” he said, after a few moments’ thought.
“Great,” I sighed. “It’s at least two hours before sunset, and I’m still tired.”
Tuning Up
I woke up normally after that last two-hour nap. There was a small envelope of red powder next to me on the nightstand, and a note from Risto, telling me that there was a bottle of wine in my kitchen, and that I should have a glass with the powdered blood dissolved in it, to relax and recover after my experiences the past couple of days.
That sounded good. But later. I wanted a shower to finish washing the crazy off.
I dug out fleece lined jeans, and layered up when I was out of the shower. The broken bond had me feeling colder, somehow. I put the envelope of dried blood in a mug (all I owned) in my small dish cabinet, and went upstairs. I heard my car pulling in just as I headed into the library. I waited in the doorway, and was rewarded with Risto helping Richmond into the house. He looked to have a broken femur. When they started for my basement door, I cleared my throat. “He may be more comfortable on the couch in the room just down from this one,” I said. “Is there anything I can get?”
“I’d be very appreciative of the method by which you drink blood,” Richmond said, his voice thin and tight with pain.
I nodded, scrambling down into my apartment and washing the mug I’d used earlier. I warmed up a full pint of blood and hurried back up to the living room, where Richmond was stretched out on the couch, his leg bound straight. There was a hole in the pants leg that was stained and damp—likely a compound fracture, then. I cringed and offered him the mug. He took it and chugged it faster than I’d drank mine after I’d been awakened earlier.
He stiffened in pain, his back arching, but he didn’t make a sound while his thigh crackled and creaked as it healed.
I almost threw up at the sound.
He sighed in relief and went bonelessly limp as the stomach-churning noises finished. “What happened?” I asked.
“He woke just as I found him,” Richmond said. Even his voice dragged and sounded exhausted. Still thin with the shadow of pain. “Earlier than I posited he’d be capable of. He struck, fast and hard, and if my leg hadn’t hit the girder, or hadn’t been the only part of me hitting that girder, I’d have been fine…all he wanted to do was escape.”
I nodded. It fit what I knew. Or had thought I knew. “Well. He attacks girls, never guys, even though there’s no way any human could overpower and hurt him,” I said. “I was pretty sure that would be the case. He’s a coward.”
“I still have the cameras aimed at all of the doors at the Walmart,” Richmond said. “We’ll be able to tell if he decides to move his resting place.”
I grimaced. “I think he uses Walmart because everybody goes there,” I reminded. “I think he uses it to choose victims, and goes back between victims. I don’t think he’ll be willing to give up that advantage in hunting.”
“You really doubt he’ll leave,” Richmond said, disbelieving.
“Well, yeah,” I said. “He’ll assume since he got away from you once, that he’s safe. He’ll assume that his hunting grounds are safe, that his chosen daytime spot is safe. He’s not sane.”
“So, a stronger vampire coming after him doesn’t occur?” Risto asked thoughtfully.
“I don’t think so, no,” I said. “I don’t think he has any concept of stronger or weaker vampires. I’m not sure he knows any more than I did when I was first brought over, to be honest. He kept demanding to know what was going on, kept trying to make me go look. Not only did I refuse to learn anything, I refused to tell him what he wanted to know. He complained about me being a bad child, and hit me, but there wasn’t anything else. I seriously don’t think he knows even as much as I do, at this point.”
“You did what?” Risto said, shock thinning his voice.
I frowned. “I refused to cooperate. At all. I wouldn’t even go look to learn what was going on. He called me a bad child, and asked me why I wasn’t obedient. I reminded him he killed me, and that I wouldn’t do anything he wanted me to do because I hate him. If I could be the one to kill him, and it wouldn’t risk my own safety, I’d do it.”
Risto sat down heavily in one of the comfy recliners I’d put in here for TV viewing. “I haven’t ever heard of a child denying a sire
what they were ordered to do or to reveal. I have never heard of a child whose will could stand against their sire’s so. How is this possible?”
“Could it be a trait of the line?” Richmond asked.
Risto shook his head. “No. I’ve encountered the line before. I burned Rome once, and London twice. Each time, I had a child come to me and report crimes, and they could not stand against their sire’s will beyond simply reporting what was going on. And they died doing that much, before I could break their bond for them.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what’s so different about you, child, but this is not possible. By every metric I thought I knew, this is not possible without intervention from a much stronger vampire.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it was in the way I was turned?” I suggested. “He didn’t turn me. I was supposed to be another of his murders of his wife, not a vampire he brought over to be his child.”
“Perhaps,” Risto said, relaxing into his chair a bit more. “Explain the circumstances, please.”
I shuddered. “I was at a Christmas party for my office. I didn’t want to be there, but leaving like I did wasn’t my idea. It was his. He was waiting in the stairwell, and attacked me. He raped me while he was draining me, and I fought. I fought as hard as I could, but it was like fighting a wall. I even bit him, and that didn’t get him off of me,” I said. My voice was high and distant. “Ray said the autopsy found the chunk of long-dead flesh in my stomach.”
“There may be something in her mental make-up that permits for her to have fought him even though he was her sire,” Richmond suggested tentatively.
“Perhaps,” Risto said thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of a victim attempting to fight.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t heard of it (though that didn’t mean much), nor had I experienced it. Even the violent rapists didn’t fight once I put my hands on them with intent. “I’ve been told from the time I was a very small girl that there was no passive in my aggressive,” I said.
“Why didn’t you tell me I hadn’t broken your bond?” Richmond asked after a few moments.
