Serafina and the Silent Vampire

by Marie Treanor

  No one, Sera thought, walking through the cobbled streets of the old town surrounding the castle, could object to being the reason her lover wanted to live. Although she could doubt its truth. Sera had encountered depressed and even suicidal people before, and Blair, for all his hidden depths just didn’t fit the profile.

  Nor was she blind to the fact that as she’d entered his house this afternoon, Blair had deliberately left it. He had other things on his mind, of course: preserving Phil and stopping his pain—how did human blood do that, anyway? But what difference would a minute have made? Couldn’t he have said hello?

  Why should he? Why should a centuries-old vampire waste any time on a girl who blew hot and cold for no reason except her own miserable hang-ups? And why should said girl give a damn anyway? She needed Blair to help with the banking-vampire problem. In personal terms, they were poison to each other.

  She even wondered if he were hiding from her, because tracking him had proved extraordinarily difficult. He’d walked past Serafina’s at some point, but his trail had disappeared. She’d gone back to his street and picked up the “feel” of him there. It had gone round the corner and disappeared again. Heading up to the old town had been a last resort, because at least one of the vampires’ victims had been killed in a pub in that area. She was sure he would be hunting, whether human or vampire, and the dark allies and closes, the old stamping ground of murderers like Deacon Brodie and Burke and Hare, would surely be the best place for that.

  And here, at last, she’d picked up his trail, following him from pub to pub. As she brushed against a wall, she got a flash of him, gazing into a man’s eyes, arm around his shoulder as if in drunken camaraderie, while in his mind was only cold calculation and blood lust. She could feel where he’d drunk the man’s blood and moved on. Clearly he wasn’t taking them all home to Phil. Perhaps there were limits to what Phil could drink in a day.

  He’d been in another pub since then and left with another human. Sera followed them along the road and down the steps of a narrow alley. The old, gray stone buildings rose tall and threatening on either side. The light was poor, and at the corner of another, even narrower passage that ran between buildings, it seemed to disappear altogether. Glancing up, Sera saw that the street lamp was broken. She could see only blackness in the passage, and yet she knew he’d gone that way.

  Her skin prickled as she stepped inside. It was worth remembering that vampires were not the only predators who haunted the dark corners of cities. In fact, human predators would probably do her more damage. At least the handy sharp stick in her pocket would work on either kind.

  She moved on, trailing one hand along the wall of the building on her left to keep track of him. Her eyes grew more accustomed to the deeper darkness and began to make out the looming buildings, their doors and windows and backyards. Her feet made very little noise, just the occasional crunch on the uneven cobbles. From the buildings, she heard occasional muffled voices raised in anger or bursts of laughter, but she encountered no one.

  Until she saw Blair. There were rough, ancient steps on two sides, leading up to a doorway. The light above the door had mysteriously gone out too, and beneath its broken glass, Sera saw shadows move. Not large or threatening movements, but very slight, sensual ones. Her heart lurched. She stopped and stared until the figures resolved. A man and a woman locked in an embrace. He’d braced her against the wall, much as he’d once done with Sera against her kitchen door. He might have been screwing the woman, for all Sera knew. He was certainly biting her.

  Head thrown back against the wall, the woman’s body moved against him as if to the rhythm of his sucking. She made a tiny little mewl of pleasure, and slowly, unhurriedly, Blair lifted his head. But he didn’t look at his victim; he turned and gazed directly at Sera. Of course, he knew she was there. His eyes seemed to glitter. She could make out his fangs, gleaming white among the blood. Then, deliberately, he returned to the woman’s throat and drank some more.

  Sera stood rooted to the spot. She wanted to throw something at him, make him stop. And yet she knew he wouldn’t kill the woman. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. In some strange, perverse way, he’d never looked more beautiful or more alien to her. And yet what bothered her most was the heat that flooded her body as she watched him. Her hard, yearning nipples seemed to rub against the fabric of her clothes; between her legs was the hot moisture of lust. And in her heart, the sharp, ugly ache of jealousy.

  Blair raised his head once more. She even saw him lick the woman’s wound as he’d licked hers. Then he released her. The woman appeared to tug his arm, urging him toward the doorway, but Blair merely removed her hand and kissed it with antiquated gallantry before gently pushing her into the doorway.

  Only then, when the door had closed behind his obedient victim, did he turn and look once more at Sera. He said nothing. His mind was silent, his body unnaturally still.

  “Full?” she snapped, more to break the silence than because she had any desire to know.

  “No. But then I was always taught to leave the table knowing I could eat just a little more.”

  What the hell was she doing here? Had she really imagined that Blair would be any help with Melanie’s spell problem? Had she really imagined he’d want to be? They were anathema to each other, and this was exactly what Blair had meant to show her.

  Hell, I’ll do it. I’ll wish all the energy of the dead through me to Mel. Then she’ll reach the bastards.

  It was a wild thought, surging out of nowhere from defiance, from some unbearably painful disappointment that she refused to analyze. She even swung away from him, ready to return the way she’d come.

  And suddenly, he was there in front of her, forcing her to halt.

  “That might work,” he said mildly. “Energy comes from many sources, and you can channel it as I can’t. Vampires only pass supernatural energy on through their blood. Also, I’ve been thinking about what you said about magic, about opening locks with my mind. It only works when I’m close to the lock in question.”

  Sera’s lips parted. “You mean she has to be around the vampires as she casts the spell? Bloody hell, how long is that going to take?”

  “Depends on how close the vampires are.” He leaned closer, inhaling her. “The closer the better.”

  Her body seemed to remember its experience of closeness to Blair. She felt it melt, even as she fought the memory.

  “Don’t even think about it.” It would have been a snarl if only her voice hadn’t shaken. “You haven’t brushed your teeth.”

  “I don’t leave blood on my teeth. I drink it all.”

  “Not from me, you don’t!”

  Although her body trembled, her words and her mind defied him. Glaring into his eyes, she even began to drag the stake from her pocket. But this close, his eyes seemed to drown hers. It wasn’t his hypnosis. It was her own fascination and straightforward lust. His lips parted, revealing a glimpse of his fangs. Her breath caught. He bent his head, not to her throat but to her mouth, and took it with his.

  She tried to speak, to tell him to fuck off, but it wouldn’t have been honest. She wanted his kiss. She wanted his mouth moving on hers, stroking her tongue and lips and teeth. She wanted the reminder, the danger of his wicked, pointed canines, grazing the inside of her mouth. So she gave in and found she hadn’t remembered the full devastation of his kiss after all.

  It was long and sensual and drove everything else from her mind. And yet he didn’t hold her, merely touched her with his body and his mouth. If anyone pressed closer, it was Sera. Only at the end, as his lips began to disengage, did he bring up his hand and touch her cheek, almost as if he couldn’t help it.

  But his fingertips felt strange. Not the smooth, sexy touch she’d somehow got used to, but rough, uneven. She snapped her eyes open as he lifted his head, and she imagined one side of his face was disfigured. The darkness was playing tricks. But the knowledge didn’t prevent her touching his face in return and fe
eling the damaged skin.

  “You were burned too,” she blurted. “Like Phil.”

  “Not like Phil.” He stepped back, out of her reach, and she realized that the tender moment, if that was what it really was, had passed.

  “He wouldn’t drink from me.”

  “Drunks are always overly sentimental. Why were you looking for me?”

  “Lots of reasons. We need to finish Smith quickly, and I don’t know how. The police think you started the fire; someone drew you escaping, and McGowan recognized you.”

  “Did you tell them where I live?”

  “Of course, I bloody didn’t!”

  “Schoolboy honor—schoolgirl honor—is not yet dead,” he said flippantly. “All right. We’ll finish it quickly. I should be healed by tomorrow.”

  “Will Phil?”

  “Phil may take a little longer.” He gave her a small, ironic bow, turned on his heels, and disappeared into the night so fast she couldn’t make him out.

  ****

  He didn’t go far. From the end of the passage, he leapt onto the top of the tall, stone tenement and watched her make her way back to better lit parts of town.

  “Nicholas,” he called with his mind, reaching out to the psychic presence. “Nicholas Smith. I suppose I have to talk banks with you.”

  There was a pause. But he’d got the message. Blair felt his astonishment, paralyzing his mind.

  “Blair?” came the cautious response. Fear had overlaid his disbelief. “I thought you were—dead.”

  “Oh, I’ve always been dead. At least in your lifetime. I’m not so easy to kill for good, but I can see that if I want a quiet life, I have to take to the financial world. Have you thought of telepathic banking?”

  Nicholas Smith’s mind was smiling now. He was still suspicious but definitely hopeful. “I can see you’ll be a great asset to our cause after all.”

  ****

  “I need a drink,” Sera said, throwing her keys on the table and sinking into the nearest chair. Opposite her, Jilly and Jack looked up from their fish suppers with more hope than expectation.

  “Bring any in with you?” Jilly asked.

  Sera sighed. “Didn’t think of it till right now.”

  Elspeth, coming in from the kitchen, said, “There’s a bottle of vodka downstairs.”

  Jilly made a noise like a squeaky door, which meant she was trying not to laugh. But Sera decided one honest admission deserved another.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Shall I bring it up?”

  “Elspeth, I already owe you three bottles.”

  Elspeth smiled faintly. “I know.”

  She turned and went out. Listening to the measured thud of her feet on the stairs, Sera exchanged glances with the other two. “Guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

  “Maybe,” Jack said. “Or maybe she’s just smarter than we ever gave her credit for.”

  “Sera gave her credit,” Jilly said. “Everyone gets credit off Sera till they blow it.”

  Sera frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “How’s Blair’s credit?”

  “He’s still prepared to help us, so I suppose it’s high enough.” Sera shifted uncomfortably in her chair, listening to the sounds of Elspeth’s return. “Where’s Melanie? Still asleep?”

  “Yep. Whatever she’s doing—or failing to do—it takes it out of her.”

  Sera took the proffered bottle from Elspeth, and slowly raised her eyes to the older woman’s face. The bottle was unopened.

  Elspeth said, “You don’t owe anyone, Sera.”

  Sera smiled. “Neither do you.”

  Jilly followed Sera to the kitchen to get glasses and mixers. “She knows, doesn’t she?” Jilly said, rummaging in the fridge.

  “That I was the kid she stuck up for? I think maybe she always knew after all.”

  “You know, I think I like Elspeth.”

  “Easy, Jilly. You might find yourself liking Jack soon.”

  “Nah,” said Jilly, emerging with a bottle of tonic and a carton of orange juice.

  “Small ones only,” Sera said as they set everything down on the table. “And then an early night.”

  “Yes, boss,” Jack said, reaching for the vodka bottle. Elspeth stuck with orange juice, which no one saw fit to comment on.

  Abruptly, Sera said, “Blair thinks Mel needs to be closer to the vampires for the spell to work.”

  “Can we trust Blair, though?” Jack asked.

  I don’t know. I don’t know who or what he is. Aloud, she said steadily, “In this, I think so. He wants the same thing as us. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want revenge for the fire.”

  “The fire could have convinced him he needs to play ball with Smith,” Jilly pointed out. “You always said he wanted a peaceful life.” She waved one expressive hand. “Existence. Whatever.”

  Sera chose to ignore that. It had already crossed her mind. But she couldn’t bear the being who had kissed her like that to be betraying her at the same time. It was her weakness, and she needed to allow for it.

  “He also said I could channel energy to Mel to make her stronger.”

  “You can.” Mel’s voice spoke from the bedroom doorway, and when Sera turned, she was already walking toward them. She looked wide awake and businesslike, despite her sleep-crumpled clothes and tousled hair, and her eyes gleamed with new excitement. She sat down beside Sera and carefully poured herself a small vodka, which she drank neat, before she turned to face Sera. “That is, you probably can. I should have thought of this before.”

  “Thought of what before?” Sera asked, bewildered.

  “What Blair said.” Mel drew a deep breath. “I keep waiting for you to ask about your mother, but you never do. I can understand that. Reality so often pollutes a pleasant dream. But I’m going to tell you now anyhow, because you need to know. Did you guess that she was a witch? That I knew her because she was teaching me?”

  Somewhere, it had entered Sera’s head, although she hadn’t wanted it to be true—for the same trivial reasons she hated Nicholas Smith being psychic. Now, staring at Mel, she merely nodded curtly. There was more than her ego involved here,

  Mel said, “I was her—apprentice, if you like. She was a strong witch, with many gifts, which formed, I think, part of her attraction to your father. Whatever, she stayed grounded. She was a good person and strong. Strong enough to see Nick eventually for what he was and to move on without him. But I digress. One of her gifts was gathering other people’s energy for her own purposes.”

  “What kind of energy?” Jilly asked uneasily.

  “All kinds. Spiritual and emotional; from the living and the dead. She could pass it on to people to heal them, but I know it can be channeled to others too, to link power if you like.” She turned back to Sera. “You might have that gift too.”

  Sera tried to laugh. It came out brittle and unhappy. “Why would you think that? Because I’m her daughter? Everything isn’t inherited. It’s not all about blood.”

  “No. But in this case, it helps. I’ve felt something when you touch me. Everyone sensitive must feel it. Maybe you’re not just reading what’s inside them; maybe you’re giving your own positive energy.”

  “Melanie, that’s shite,” Sera said and downed her remaining vodka and orange too fast.

  “No, it isn’t,” said quite another voice inside her head, and instantly, she felt the blood rush through her body. “I’m outside your door.”

  “Come in,” Sera said, waving her empty glass expansively.

  “What?” Jack said, confused.

  Sera sighed, although her heart was beating like a drum. It wasn’t all warning. “It’s Blair. He’s coming up.”

  Blair entered the room silently and sat down beside Elspeth, who looked at his damaged face without comment. She didn’t move away from him. He wore the leather trousers and biker jacket she’d seen earlier—and Sera finally accepted that the helmeted biker she’d
seen outside his house was him. That was how he got around during the day, preserving his eyes and his skin from the damaging sunlight. And on a motorbike, his feet would rarely touch the ground, and so she’d been unable to track him from his house this evening.

  His hands were hidden in his lap, but despite the darkness of their previous encounter, Sera was sure the burn on the side of his face was smaller.

  “You look better,” she said, pushing the bottle toward him.

  He smiled. “Blood cures most things. In a vampire. No thanks, I can’t stay.”

  Bugger you, then, she thought before she could help it. Why should he stay? There’d be no privacy here with her flat full of people. “Then what do you want?” she snapped.

  “Some friends of mine will drop in on you tonight—hopefully while I’m here.”

  “Will they eat us?” Sera asked flippantly.

  Around her, her already bewildered friends looked startled or alarmed, according to their natures.

  Blair said, “They might, if you ask them nicely. They’ve agreed to help, and they can protect you from vampires when I’m not around.”

  Jack said, “Please tell us the answer to the eating question was no.”

  Hastily, Sera repeated what Blair had said, while Blair himself sat unmoving, watching his hands rather than the people around him. It came to her that he was tired, exhausted even. Perhaps his body used up all its energy—and stolen blood—in healing his wounds.

  I won’t care, she thought desperately, and his gaze lifted unexpectedly to hers.

  However, he only said, “You want to finish with Smith quickly. I can bring the vampires together for you and your witch tomorrow night. Think of a suitable place, preferably large and open. You’ll have to be able to hide somewhere close by so that you can see what’s going on and cast your spells.”

  Sera opened and closed her mouth. She felt like some brainless goldfish, floundering. Worse, some vague sense of alarm had begun to prickle her skin. Shrugging it off, she repeated what Blair had said to the others.

  “What will they be doing there?” she asked him.

  He stood up. “Talking finance with me.”