Sins of the Blood: A Vampire Novel

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

"Oh, no," The realtor's tone finally had some warmth. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Norris. I didn't realize that times were so awkward for you. Of course I can show you the house. I'll just inform the owners that we'll be arriving late due to your schedule."

  "Thank you," he said. He got the address from her and hung up. Wretched woman. She was probably single too, and she would want a drink afterward, and—

  Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He would have to see. If she were[C&F124] young enough, and fertile, then the trip might be worth more than the house.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. That had been his last phone call, and his only appointment. Finding a place to live was the most important thing he could do. Then he would worry about money. Mikos had handed him $50,000 in $500 bills, but that wouldn't last a forever, and he certainly didn't want to go back to Mikos for money. If he could help it. The realization that Mikos was controlling him like a cow had made Ben even more leery of returning.

  If nothing else, he could sell the car. Mikos had given him the Lexus.

  He wouldn't worry about it now. He had a house to view, and perhaps a woman to seduce. If he planned it right, he would seduce a number of them, and take the children after they were born. The nest would love to raise a group of hereditaries. Then he would keep the woman and the child who pleased him the most. He would have his own little family, something to come home to.

  Like he could have had with Candyce.

  He slid back under the covers, and closed his eyes. Why didn't people do business at night? Things seemed so much more sensible then.

  ii

  A few hours later, he pulled the Lexus into the dead-end street in Olympia. The homes were new: most still had dirt for lawns. Some, along a gravel drive, were still under construction. Sleep in the daytime would be difficult.

  But not impossible. A young forest graced the right end of the development, and the road belonged solely to the new homes. The house with the for-rent sign sat at the very edge of the row of homes, with all but the street side secluded from the neighbors.

  Perfect. They would be able to watch him come and go, but not see him inside the house.

  The lights in the house were on, and a car was in the driveway. A woman came to the door. Her blue business suit accented her Rubenesque figure, and the low heels did nothing for her legs. He smiled at her. If she wore a low-cut evening gown that revealed her décolletage, and high spiked heels, she would turn heads. She had probably never thought of that.

  As he hurried up the walk, he held out his hand. "Thank you for coming so late, Glenda," he said.

  She took his hand and smiled at him as they stepped into the light. Too much red lipstick,[C&F125] and eyeliner a bit too thick. She had reapplied it just before he arrived. But her face wasn't bad. Her kind of beauty was just out of fashion.

  "I'm sorry to hear about your situation," she said. "I went through that a year ago, and it's not easy."

  He nodded, trying to look properly upset.

  The house still had the new-glue smell from the freshly laid carpet. The walls had no scuff marks. The windows overlooked the backyard. They were too small for a house this size. They should have covered half the wall. Instead, they were the size of bathroom windows.

  Glenda caught him looking at the windows. "I warned you they were tiny," she said. "The problem with this house, as you can probably tell, is that it is dark. But it's spacious and no one has ever lived in it."

  "Then why did you have to inform the owners that you were coming late?"

  She smiled. "Sometimes men use a late-night showing as an excuse to get a woman alone. If they think that other people are going to be there, they don't come."

  He nodded. How logical. He hadn't thought of it. "Who are the owners?"

  "A couple from Seattle. They own and rent several properties in Olympia. They made a mistake with this one, though. They built it, not realizing that they needed to have some input in the design. Apparently they told the contractors to do it according to the specs, which included those windows."

  He put a hand on her arm. Her sleeve was warm, even though the evening was cool. "You don't have to apologize for the windows," he said. "I won't be here much during the day. I wouldn't rent it for the view."

  She nodded. He explored the kitchen—with appliances so new they still bore their energy efficient tags—and the sunken dining room. The wall begged for an opening to a deck, but none had been built in. The house did have an air of cheapness that a little more care would have dissipated.

  The bedrooms were even darker, with narrow windows up near the ceiling. One room, off the bathroom, had no windows at all. "What's this?" he asked.

  "Oh," she said, "You can use it as storage. It was supposed to be a walk-in closet off the master bedroom, but it ended up too large."

  It was perfect. A bed would fit in there with no problem at all. With the door closed, and another bedroom set in the master bedroom, no one would figure out where he really slept. "The price you quoted me is what they want?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  "And it's available now, obviously."

  "Yes," she said. Her voice sounded strained. She probably needed the commission.

  "Good," he said. "I'll take it. Have you got a lease?"

  "We do have to check references—"

  He sighed. "You're going to find problems. The wife froze all my accounts, and has destroyed both of our credit. You can call my place of employment, though."

  "We need a valid application, Mr. Norris—"

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I was planning to pay for the first three months with cash. Would that help?" He counted out six of Mikos' bills.

  She was staring at the money. "One would think you made a living illegally, what with the car, and the cash." She giggled, so he would take it as a joke.

  "That's why I said you could call my employer." He pressed the money into her hand. "You know how it is. I managed to get my savings out before the wife took them, but I haven't had time to open a new account."

  She bit her lower lip. Her gaze scanned him, obviously checking out the quiet expense of his clothing, remembering the car, and noting that more bills were in his wallet. She pulled an application out of her blazer pocket and set it on the counter. "Let's just fill this out for form's sake, Mr. Norris. We'll need a damage deposit, but otherwise, I would say you should be able to bring your stuff over tomorrow."

  "What stuff there is," he mumbled. He took the offered pen, and filled out the sheet. He put Mikos' number down as his place of employment. Someone there would lie for him. David Norris was one of the nest's names.

  She wrote out a receipt for the cash, then wandered around the kitchen, opening cupboards and running her hand along the sideboards, pretending not to watch as he worked. When he finished, he handed her the sheet. "Hope it works," he said.

  "Me, too."

  He glanced around the kitchen. It was a start. He would show Mikos and the others. He would show them that he could survive as well as they could—better,[C&F126] because he had to make his own way. "Listen," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Let me buy you some coffee, for keeping you out this late."

  The naked hope in her eyes shocked him. She looked away, and her voice carried none of that desperation when she spoke. "I'd love that."

  "I'm not familiar with Olympia. Is there anything around here?"

  "There's an IHOP not far from here."

  "Coffee shop? Anything nicer?"

  She shook her head. "It's too late, unless you want to go to a bar."

  A bar would set the wrong mood. He wanted her to feel his interest. From her reaction, no one had been interested in a long time. "Come on," he said, taking her elbow and escorting her into the hallway. "I'll follow you."

  They shut off the lights, and she locked the lock box. He escorted her to her car, and reassessed her earning potential. She drove a late model Paseo, red if he could judge the color in the dark. She was probab
ly doing well for herself at her job.

  Just not in her personal life.

  Perfect.

  He got into the Lexus, and waited for her to back out of the driveway. As he followed her to the restaurant, he surveyed the neighborhood. More housing developments rose near his. No one would live in them for months. Then he would be at the center of a suburban neighborhood, complete with children and networking neighbors. He would have to decide, at that point, if he wanted to be the eccentric yuppie at the end of the block or if he wanted to move to more suitable surroundings.

  There was time to make that decision.

  The IHOP restaurant was an older version, done in the hideous blue and orange design he remembered from his childhood. She parked on the side, and through the wide windows, he could see some old men sitting at a large booth, and a young couple hunched over a shared plate of ice cream. Glenda waited for him to get out of his car and lock it. They walked inside together.

  A permanent haze of cigarette smoke made the air foggy. Coffee and fried meats added to the restaurant odor. The waitress led them to a cracked booth away from the other patrons.

  "Coffee?" she asked.

  Ben nodded for both of them. He looked at the menu, not at all tempted by the pictures of food. He had forgotten what most of it tasted like. But Van had once told him that he could taste anything, and so he would.

  "Want a dessert?" he asked.

  She patted her nipped waist. "I don't think I should."

  "Nonsense," he said, with a smile. If she became permanent, he would like her to be well fed. That way, when the wasting started, it would look like a diet. He reached across the table and cupped her cheek. The softness of her skin surprised him. "You're really beautiful, you know. Don't let fashion dictate what you think of yourself."

  She flushed again, unable to meet his gaze.

  "How about we split something?" he asked. He pointed at an oversized ice cream dessert. "Come on. I can't eat it on my own."

  Her smile returned, shy, a young schoolgirl's on her first date. "All right," she said.

  When the waitress returned with their coffees, Ben ordered for them. He asked for two spoons, although he doubted he would make much use of his. "So you’ve[C&F127] been on your own for a while," he said. "Does it get easier?"

  "Oh, yes." She added two small containers of cream to her coffee and a packet of artificial sugar. "The first six months are the hardest, I think. After that, you kinda get used to being on your own."

  He leaned back against the booth and put his feet on the seat beside her. He cupped his coffee mug in one hand, but did not drink. "Yeah," he said. "I've heard that before. But the hard thing for me is that I wanted kids. That's what the disagreement started over. Kids."

  Glenda took a small sip of her coffee. When she set the mug down, a lipstick stain marred the rim. "You're young. It's not like you have a clock or anything."

  "I'm not as young as I look," Ben said. He brought the mug to his lips, rolled the bitter liquid around on his tongue, and made himself swallow. God, he used to like that stuff? "And besides, there is a clock. The magazines just haven't written about it."

  Glenda grinned. "You mean like male menopause?"

  He shook his head. "I want to play with my kid. I want to enjoy him, have enough energy to be an interesting father. My dad was in his forties when I was born, and I never got to play with him. I want my kid to play with me."

  "Yeah," Glenda said, and sighed. "I just want a kid."

  Ben's body became rigid. No tied tubes. No distractions. Probably a pill that he could throw away or a diaphragm that they could forget to use. "You got time yet, don't you?"

  "Oh, yeah," she said. "I just haven't had much interest." Then she blushed. "I shouldn't tell you that, I suppose."

  The waitress brought their ice cream. It sloshed over the bowl onto the saucer. Fake strawberry sauce was too bright to be blood, but Ben pretended anyway. He took a large spoonful and shoved it in his mouth before he could think about it. The cold, cloying sweetness made him gag. Force of will prevented his disgust from showing.

  Glenda took a large bite as well. She looked away from him, as if her revelation made her less of a person.

  "I'm interested," he said, careful to keep his voice low. And he was. She was attractive enough, and looked strong. Besides that, she was unattached and wanted children.

  "Yeah," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "A handsome man like you."

  The waitress passed with a tray of steaming food. She stopped at the table behind them. Ben hadn't even realized anyone was sitting there. "You don't have a lot of confidence in yourself."

  She stood her spoon up in the ice cream. "My husband—my ex-husband—took to calling me the fat pig. It doesn't do a lot for making a woman feel attractive."

  "Surely you were built like this when he married you." Ben was feeling light-headed. The food was having an odd effect on him. He sat up, and hoped the feeling would go away.

  "I was," she said. "But we were young. He was just happy to get one with big tits. Then he wanted me to lose weight, look like those enhanced models. Skinny everywhere but up top. He didn't understand when I tried to explain to him that it didn't work that way."

  Ben had never had a woman with big breasts and soft skin. It would be interesting. He took her hand. The blood rushed through her veins. Saliva formed in his mouth and, to his surprise, he had grown hard. "I think you're beautiful," he said again.

  He wanted her. He wanted her right here. He moved forward, and the dizziness hit him again. Something was wrong. He wanted to take this slow, and his body was moving too fast.

  "Thank you," she said.

  He leaned back, then looked behind him. The woman in the other booth was reading a romance novel and eating spaghetti. With bread. Garlic bread. Good God, he was being poisoned.

  "You done?" he asked.

  Glenda nodded. He pulled out his wallet and put a twenty on the tab, then led her outside. Once the cool air hit him, the headache in the back of his skull dissipated. He was still aroused.

  One kiss. She wanted it too. One kiss and they would be bound. He would get the house and she would come when he wanted her to. One kiss.

  He leaned into her without thinking. Her soft body against his made the arousal even stronger. He wanted to touch that skin, to be inside her, to feel those oversized breasts against his flesh. He kissed her with all the passion he felt. She responded hungrily. He slipped his hands into her suit jacket, felt the silkiness of her blouse, the ridge of her bra. He disengaged his mouth from hers and trailed down her neck, shoving the jacket back and nipping the skin of her collarbone. Small nick. In the morning it would look like a hickey.

  Her blood was salty and warm, with a touch of sweetness. God, he could suck all night. Her hands slid into his pants and around the front. Behind him,[C&F128] someone laughed.

  She froze. He stood up. He was still dizzy, but not as bad. She was staring at him with half-opened eyes. Two teenagers stood to one side—boys.

  "Why don't you take her home, man. It's cold out here," one of them said.

  Home. Bed. Slow. What was wrong with him?

  That garlic. It worked like alcohol. No inhibitions at all. Mikos had warned him of that, but Ben had never experienced it. He had to get a grip on himself. He needed control if he were going to protect himself.

  Garlic. Such a small amount too.

  "I'm sorry," he said, pushing the hair from Glenda's face. She really was pretty. Much nicer than Candyce. He would treat her right. Maybe she would retain enough of a brain to be more than a brood mare for him. "I didn't mean to embarrass you in public like that."

  She looked away. The shy girl had returned. "You didn't do anything. I was the one—"

  He put a finger to her lips, longing to follow it with his mouth. The arousal was still there, so strong that it might overpower him at any moment. "I do want you, Glenda," he said. "But not like this. I want more than one night. Tell you what
. I'll pick up the keys from you tomorrow late, and then we'll go furniture shopping at the mall. It'll give us a chance to talk, to be together. What do you say?"

  Her smile was thin. She didn't believe him. He could have her now if he wanted. But that wouldn't work. He needed that house worse, and she had to keep her job, at least for a while. "Okay," she said.

  "Good," he said. "How about I pick you up at your office about nine?"

  "Nine?" she said. "That doesn't give us much time. They close at ten."

  He shrugged. "I have to work."

  "Oh, yeah."

  He slipped his arm around her and walked her to her car. The scent of blood on her collar made him itch. Tomorrow, he promised himself. And not under the influence of anything. She climbed into the driver's seat. He leaned over and kissed her, meaning to give her a light peck, but the kiss became something deeper again. If the door hadn't been leaning into his side, making him feel a slight pain, he would have crawled into the car with her.

  Control, Ben. Control.

  He came up for air, the warmth of her blood on his tongue. "Nine," he said. He would be able to handle the twilight.

  She nodded. "I'll see you then." Her voice shook. He closed her door so that he wouldn't touch her again. She backed up too quickly, and drove out of the parking lot with more abandon than she had had before. He swallowed. The excess saliva in his mouth was making him nervous.

  He hadn't had a reaction like that since his first night at the nest. Out of control, a slave to his body. And to think just the night before, he had wanted the oblivion of alcohol. He had gotten it without really trying. Someday, he would take a woman on garlic. It promised to be a heady, overwhelming experience.

  But one he chose, not one he stumbled into. He took a deep breath, then another, waiting for his body to settle down before he went to the car. He wanted some control before he hit that singles bar he had seen on the drive over. He didn't want another corpse to deal with, just enough nourishment to carry him through to the next day.

  Glenda. Already a prospect, and a good one. He hoped to hell she was fertile. He needed all the opportunities he could get.