Fright Court

by Mindy Klasky

  “What’s that?” I asked. “Impressment?”

  “Subverting the will of a vampire. Breaking one of us to his desire, controlling a vampire as a pawn. It’s the worst crime we can commit.”

  “But you Enfold humans all the time.”

  “Yes, we do,” he said flatly. “But vampires aren’t humans. Taking our will is worse than death, than staking. Our will is the one constant we have left to us, after we Turn. It’s the only thing that lasts through the centuries.”

  There was a story there. Something in James’s past. Something that he had seen, or done, or had done to him. But given the granite edge of his jaw, I was certain he wasn’t going to tell me about it.

  I jumped back to safe ground. “So, Schmidt works for Richardson?” I barely remembered to add, “Allegedly.”

  James blinked, visibly shoving down his bitter memories. “That’s what Teller’s trying to prove. If Schmidt’s blood herds were run for the benefit of Richardson, for a convicted impressor, then the penalties are enhanced for Schmidt.”

  “Enhanced?”

  “His crimes become capital crimes. Execution would be with prejudice.” James scowled at my obvious ignorance. “He would be staked with silver. In the open air. Just before dawn.”

  I thought back to my first lessons about vampire life, to the knowledge I’d gained from James’s own blood. “But stakes only kill if they’re made from oak.”

  “A silver stake doesn’t kill,” he said grimly. “It burns. From the inside out. The stake doesn’t end the execution, it starts it. The sun does the rest.”

  I swallowed hard. It was one thing to read about vampires, to tickle my fear reflex with Edgar Allan Poe stories of the macabre. It was another to picture the man beside me—no, the vampire beside me—spread-eagled at sunrise, tortured with silver. Not that James would ever be sentenced to death. Not that he would ever have anything to do with impressment.

  “You asked,” he said flatly.

  “I needed to know.” I tried to sound reasonable. This was my job. A job that was coming to me more naturally every single night. I had to learn everything I could, if I was going to succeed. Learn everything—even the bad things. Even the terrifying things. Especially if Richardson was working together with Schmidt. Allegedly. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  I knew the words were foreign to vampires, loaded with complicated shadows of debt and remorse. I wasn’t a vampire, though. I was a human. I was a human who needed to preserve every alliance I could. And if a couple of words of traditional social grace helped establish that, then so much the better.

  James nodded, apparently accepting my gratitude before he glanced over his shoulder, toward the giant clock above the door. “You have two full hours before your shift is over. Are you ready to head down to the Old Library?”

  “Why not?” I asked, summoning a game smile from somewhere. “What do I have to lose?”

  Aside from my balance, my dignity, and my sense of extremely limited control over the world around me, I added silently. Nevertheless, I followed my boss out of the deserted Night Court. I was already breathing deeply, summoning my warrior’s core of calm by the time I hit the first flight of stairs.

  * * *

  Almost effortlessly, I found myself falling into new habits at work, juggling my duties in the clerk’s office, my training with James, and my interviews with Chris. The reporter had taken to arriving as I opened my office door, and he regularly stayed until my midnight lunch breaks. By then, he was bleary eyed and fighting to swallow a yawn or two. I walked him to the front door of the courthouse and sent him into the night with fresh details for his story.

  A couple of times, he murmured protests about sticking around till dawn, but I told him the office was practically deserted after midnight. I just didn’t bother to mention that I spent most of my early morning hours in the Old Library, or in Judge DuBois’s courtroom. Chris never thought to ask, and I figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or me. Or the imperials.

  On Friday night, I walked him to the front of the building as the clock struck twelve. “Have a good weekend,” I said.

  “Nora’s birthday party is on Sunday, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t keep from grinning. All week long, I had tried to manage my expectations, telling myself that no one cared about a birthday party for a one-year-old, that Chris had probably forgotten, had made other plans. But secretly, I’d hoped that he remembered my invitation. I really wanted his company, wanted to follow up outside of the office on the glimmering thread of attraction that wove through every single one of our conversations.

  I couldn’t point to anything in particular that he’d said or done to make me think that he was flirting with me. There was just that easy way he smiled at me…. I couldn’t pin it down, but I knew that I had felt something, all week long. And I was virtually certain that he felt it too.

  “Yeah,” I finally said, worried that I had taken too long to reply. “Allison said we’ll have birthday cake first, then she’ll put Nora down for the night, and we adults can enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  “Sounds good. What time should I pick you up?”

  There. He’d done it again. The first time he’d blind-sided me was when he escalated a quick cup of coffee to a romantic dinner. Now, he’d turned a kid’s birthday party into an honest-to-goodness come-by-to-pick-you-up date.

  “Um, five o’clock?”

  “Won’t that be a little early for you, night owl?”

  “Time and toddlers wait for no man. Or woman.”

  “Five o’clock it is, then.” He waited, and I stood beside him like an idiot, trying to figure out what he was going to do. It was Friday night, almost Saturday morning, the end of long work week. Was he going to shake my hand? Lean in for the kiss we’d both considered? Okay, that I had considered. That I had done a lot more than consider, that I had spent way too many spare minutes actually choreographing in my head…

  Chris broke the spell by clearing his throat. “I need your address.”

  Of course. Brilliant me. I stammered out the information.

  “I’ll see you on Sunday, then.” And he disappeared into the night.

  I raised my fingers to my cheeks, certain they were flushed pink. I decided to take a quick walk outside, to cool my face and catch my breath before I headed back to my office, most likely to find a note from James, summoning me to yet another training session in the Old Library.

  The streets near the courthouse were lit with graceful street lamps. A few cars drove by—people heading home from start-of-weekend dinners with friends, tired souls finishing up long weeks at their own offices. I decided it was safe enough to walk toward the well-lit Capitol building.

  Just to be sure, I pulled out my cell phone. That was another safety trick from my long-ago self-defense course, the same one that had taught me to yell “Fire!” instead of “Help!” if I was attacked. Women walking alone should hold their cell phones ready to deter any potential attacker, making it clear that assistance could be summoned by the mere push of a button.

  After a couple of blocks walking with my silent cell to my ear, I snorted at the advice and shoved my phone deep in my pocket. My training-enhanced reflexes would help me to reach it quickly enough, if anything went wrong. In fact, I felt so confident that I decided to cut across the broad park that ran between Constitution Avenue and the Capitol. The route was much more direct than sticking to the well-lit, paved streets.

  Big mistake.

  A brisk breeze blew through the oak trees, rattling the dried autumn leaves that still clung to the branches. I hugged my arms close to my chest. I should have grabbed my jacket before leaving the security of the courthouse. I hadn’t realized how cool the midnight air would be.

  Well, that problem was easily solved—I just had to walk more quickly. I lengthened my stride, trying to ignore the eerie echoes of my heels striking the sidewalk.

  It was spookier
out here in the dark than I’d anticipated. At first, my mind was filled with visions of vampires, night hunters who wanted me solely for my blood. I realized quickly enough that vampires were actually the least of my concern. There were plenty of ordinary malefactors in D.C., the sort of bad guys who would be perfectly content to rough me up for the twenty dollar bill crumpled in my pocket.

  I’d been foolish to come out on my own, in the middle of the night, without even telling anyone where I was going.

  I decided to head back to the courthouse. I turned around, but the path behind me looked even darker and more deserted than it had seemed when I walked it at double speed. At this point, I’d do better just to get to the Capitol. There was a taxi stand there; cabs always waited to assist late-working lawmakers as they headed toward home. I could grab a ride back to the courthouse, hand over my twenty, and tip generously with the change.

  I doubled my pace again, barely resisting the urge to break into a flat-out run.

  When fingers closed on my arm, adrenaline pierced my heart like a high-caliber bullet. A scream rose in my throat; I barely trapped it against my teeth. My body tried to remember what I’d learned in the Old Library; I tried to drop into a protective crouch, but my balance was off because of my pumps.

  “Sarah!” James’s voice cut through my panic.

  Immediately, I felt foolish. Foolish for trying to fight in my heels. Foolish for starting to scream, then stopping. Foolish for putting myself in this position in the first place, for making myself vulnerable under the moonlight of a cool October night.

  I started shivering as I faked my most normal tone. “James.”

  “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  Good question. “I wanted to get some fresh air.” Okay, that sounded ridiculous. It was better than telling him that Chris had made me blush, though, and I’d wanted to cool off before heading back to my desk.

  “You’re freezing,” he said.

  “I’m fine,” I contradicted. My assertion would have carried a lot more weight if my teeth hadn’t chosen that precise moment to start chattering. He stripped off his jacket and settled it around my shoulders. “I don’t—” I started to protest, but he merely looked at me. There was enough light from the distant lamp post that I could tell he wouldn’t believe a single word if I insisted on giving it back. Instead, I pulled the fine-gauge wool closer around my shoulders. It wasn’t like he needed it to keep warm. “Thanks,” I said.

  He shrugged an acknowledgement without commenting on my use of the social nicety. “Where were you heading?”

  “Nowhere. I really just wanted to take a walk. Like I used to on my lunch hour, when I worked days.” Embarrassed, I started down the path again, heading toward the Capitol as if I’d never second-guessed my plans. James fell in beside me. “How did you know I was out here?”

  “I saw you leave, on the camera feed.” The cameras that fed to the oversized monitor on his desk. A perk of his being Director of Security. That meant he’d probably seen me talking to Chris. Seen me about to make a fool out of myself. I sighed and kept on walking. “Does that bother you?” he asked, after twenty paces or so.

  “No,” I said automatically, because that’s what he expected me to say. It did, though. A lot. I finally changed my answer to “Yes.” There was a bench beside the path, and I threw myself on it as I tried to explain. “I don’t like the idea that I’m under surveillance.”

  “It’s not you,” he said reasonably, settling beside me. “It’s the entire courthouse. The Night Court. I wasn’t watching you in particular.”

  “But you followed me.”

  “It’s not safe out here at this time of night.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but I didn’t know what to say. My panicked dash for the Capitol was testimony to how secure I felt in the dark. I stared at the branches above us. “Do you ever miss it?” I asked at last.

  “Miss what?”

  “Daylight. Walking in the sunshine. Spending time with ordinary humans.”

  His jaw was silvered in the moonlight. “It’s been a long time,” he finally said. I didn’t need a law degree to realize that he hadn’t answered my question. I figured there was no reason to push. He wasn’t going to tell me anything, anyway. I wasn’t surprised when he directed the conversation back to me. “Do you? Miss the way your life was before you started working for the Night Court?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.” I thought for a moment, choosing my words carefully as I ran my thumb over the band of my coral ring. “It takes a bit more planning now, making sure that I get everything done when stores are open. But this job feels right to me. And I’ve always been a night owl.”

  I glimpsed a tight smile on his lips, one that disappeared almost before I saw it, like a feral creature dashing into the shadows beneath the shrubs. He said, “Most of the clerks I’ve hired had trouble balancing friends and family with the job. Most of them left after a few months because they missed their social lives.”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worked a job for a few months. A few weeks was more my speed. “I guess I don’t have that many people to keep up with. Allison. A few people I met at other jobs—bartenders, waitresses, you know. But I’ve always been a best-friend sort of person. One person who I spend most of my time with, and not a lot of casual other people in my life.”

  I stopped talking, realizing that I must sound like a social freak. He barely let the pause solidify, though, before he said, “I was the same way.”

  “Did you leave someone behind when you Turned?” I asked the question before I had a chance to think it through, and then I had to push it to its logical conclusion. “A wife?”

  He pulled away from me, and I thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. I shrugged deeper inside his jacket, and I almost missed his saying, “That was a long time ago.”

  Perversely, I pushed him by offering up my own past. “My mother died when I was in college. Cancer.”

  He eyed me steadily, avoiding the bait. “It’s difficult to lose a parent. To lose their dreams for what they want us to become.”

  I’d never thought about it that way before. “Mom wanted me to be a lawyer. If she’d still been alive, I probably wouldn’t have dropped out of law school. I would have stuck with it, just for her.”

  “She would have accepted your changing careers, if that was what you wanted. If that made you happy.” There was certainty in his voice. Someone had wanted him to be happy, someone in his past. As if he sensed that I was ready to try another question, he asked, “And your father? What does he think of your working at the court?”

  Touché. I didn’t want to talk about my father any more than he wanted to talk about his life before he Turned. “I never knew him,” I said. “He took off before I was born.” I was pleased that the words came out the way I wanted them to—even, cold. Plain, hard facts.

  So much for talking about our families. Maybe James was right. Maybe nothing good could come of swapping details about our pasts. That left the present, then. I had dozens of questions, a jumble of things I wanted to know about how he lived as a vampire. Drinking James’s blood had taught me the basics, but I didn’t know any specific information. I didn’t know about him.

  “Where do you get your feeders?” I asked, before I could frighten myself off from the question. I purposely used the crude word Schmidt had thrown at me. I wanted to show that I was tough, that I could take whatever James answered.

  His face creased into a frown, though, as if he were disappointed with me. “Sources,” he said at last. “We call them Sources.”

  I flushed with sudden shame. It wasn’t fair to goad him. So far, he had always treated me with respect, no matter what power differential existed between us. My embarrassment made me argue. “What difference does it make? We’re human, and you take our blood. Who cares what you call us?”

  “I care,” he said, and his eyes blazed with a sudden fierceness. “Sources are
protected and cared for. We Enfold them to ease their fear, and we control how much blood we take. We are sworn to leave our Sources better than we found them, with money, or shelter, or some other answer to their physical needs.”

  Physical needs. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear anything about how James met his Sources’ physical needs. “I only meant— “

  “When Schmidt talks about a feeder, he’s talking about something disposable. Something he leaves in an alley or an abandoned building, something he drains until there’s nothing left. Until nothing at all survives.”

  I shivered, remembering how Brandt had attacked me, the ruthless way that he had slashed my throat in the courtroom. I’d never been a Source to him. I was nauseated by the memory of my blood soaking my blouse, by the feeling of my life spilling out as I stumbled down the courthouse hallway.

  James’s voice softened. “Sarah, this vampire life isn’t beautiful. It isn’t glamorous. But when we can make it better—easier for the humans we live with—we do. That’s why we prosecute vampires like Schmidt. Like Richardson. That’s why we need the Night Court.” His eyes locked onto mine, and his next words shifted our conversation onto a completely different plane. “That’s why I need you.”

  My heart cascaded into a syncopated beat. “James, I—”

  I didn’t know what I wanted to say. To myself, I could admit that I was attracted to him. Every time I felt his arms around me during training in the Old Library, every time his body trapped mine… Even now, my belly swooped, and I thought about the purely physical thrill of that time together.

  I need you.

  And completely separate from the physical attraction, James had given me my first real job, employment that seemed so right for me my very soul knew it. He’d even bent the rules, letting me stay after Brandt attacked me.

  I need you.

  But there was so much I didn’t know about him, so much he wouldn’t share. I had no idea who he’d been before he Turned, whether he’d been married, who he’d left behind. He was full of shadows and hints, of secrets and doubts. I knew I could trust him with my body; he’d already proven that. I was afraid, though, to even imagine trusting him with my heart.