“And so you did nothing.”
Abraham laughed. “My son, my son... why would I do else? Do we share a bond of love, that I would come from on high to rescue your beloved? No. You have spurned me from the first. Now you come to me with accusations. I am not the guilty party, Theroen. You have not earned the right for such salvation.”
“But it was in your power to grant, as it is within your power to give me revenge.”
“Many things are within my power. Light a candle, Theroen.”
Theroen had no matches, and so used a branch from the fire. The light did little for the room, but he could see Abraham’s face now, the heavy eyebrows overshadowing eyes which gleamed with malefic humor. Abraham looked like a wolf as it gazes upon a herd of sheep. On the whole, Theroen found he preferred the darkness. Abraham seemed to sense this, and the gleam of his eyes was joined by firelight reflecting from his grin.
“You will never be like me, Theroen.”
“No, father.”
“And yet, some part of me is pleased with your return. A deal, Theroen?”
“Go on.”
“Be my fledgling. Be my servant. Be what you were supposed to be when I made you. Remain here with me, or wherever I may choose to go, until such time as you are of age. Perhaps in a handful of centuries, you will be ready. Some fledglings never leave their masters. My blood runs in you, though, and you are powerful... or will be.
“Now, though? Now you are weak, and in need of a master not so easily dispatched.”
“What do I receive for this service?”
“Ah. Yes. The deal. My end of our little... bargain. Remain with me here, Theroen, prove your loyalty, and perhaps I will look more kindly upon you. Perhaps I will see your plight with Isaac in more sympathetic light.”
“Perhaps? It seems an unbalanced arrangement, father.”
“I do not think, my son, that you are in a position to make any demands at this time. I will assuage your doubts, however. I am many things, and most of those are evil. Wicked. Hateful. I hold no love for any vampire. I hold no respect for the scrolls, short of how I may use them to my advantage. Isaac and I are bound to come into conflict. I know of his foolish politics. He would oust all competition and gain control of London. I could leave, or simply ignore him, but I could be persuaded to take a more... active interest.
“Serve me now, Theroen, and when that time comes I will give you not only Isaac’s head, but those of his entire line.”
Theroen was young, still gripped by mortal concepts like revenge. Still able to hate. He felt this hatred now, burning hot like something molten inside of him.
“Ah, son, such emotion! Isaac has left you alive. Would you not give him the same courtesy?”
“There is nothing else left for me, without her, but my hate. Isaac took from me everything I had. I would not.”
“Then we have a deal?”
“We do, father.”
There was a moment of quiet as the two vampires surveyed each other. At last, Abraham turned back to whatever lay on the desk, beyond the reach of the light.
“Put out the candle. There is a room for you in the west wing. I shall call upon you tomorrow.”
Theroen, as he would for centuries thereafter, did what he was told.
* * *
“And that is all there is, or nearly so. I could tell you lies. I could tell you that I worked for goodness, even in Abraham’s service, but that is hardly true. I’ve done many things that humans would consider evil for Abraham, and I regret very few of them, beyond bringing Melissa and Tori to him. I held my own goodness close. I would not tarnish Lisette’s memory by returning to my former ways.
“I was hated, greatly, by some for my continued existence against vampire laws. Abraham’s power protected me where Lisette’s could not, and in time, my own was more than adequate for the task. Of those vampires left that might be capable of bringing about my destruction, none care enough anymore to bother. The old hate is gone.”
Two stirred, stretched, felt the rush of air through her fingers. She should be freezing, driving in late November with the top down. The only cold she felt was internal.
“Isaac?” She asked at last.
“Isaac. Yes, Isaac died badly. I was present for it, but I found that I took little real pleasure in his destruction. A certain... mortal need for revenge was served, but after that I had only endless years as Abraham’s servant.
“Lisette’s words proved true, though. Isaac knew fear. He knew his weakness, and he died in shame. Abraham had him bound and gagged, hung upside-down, so the blood would go to his head and keep him alive while his skin was flayed from his body and he was unmanned and disemboweled.
“Abraham brought out his children, his fledglings. Isaac had three of them. And in front of him, while he wept, Abraham cut their heads from their bodies and burned them to ash. I was not sorry. All three had taken part in Lisette’s abduction.
“At the end, when Abraham removed his gag, Isaac could not even speak coherently. Terror, sorrow, and pain had combined to rob him of his senses. He wept and pleaded, the words in the vampire language that Abraham has never allowed me to learn, and Abraham did him a favor and cut his head from his body.”
“Jesus...”
“It was something less than pretty. I watched from a distance, but I made sure Isaac could see me. Oh, I made very sure of that. I am not proud of these things, Two, but I do not regret them, either.”
Two was quiet for a moment, thinking the story over in his mind. What would it be like if someone swooped in and took Theroen from her now? How could she go on?
Theroen smiled at this. They were very near the mansion now.
“Two, there is no one left to do so. Abraham has known for many years now that the time of my leaving was imminent. He does not have to like it, but he will permit it.”
To Two, this was somehow little comfort.
* * *
They rounded a corner, and the mansion came into view. Two felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, followed by a slow, crawling dread. Theroen grimaced. At the end of the driveway, nearly hidden in shadow, stood a massive black figure that could only be Abraham. The Ferrari moved up the gradual slope of the long hill, and the creature’s face came into the headlights. The light seemed to shy away from him, illuminating his features only grudgingly.
Two felt locked in place, unable to move. Theroen shut off the car, and Abraham was plunged once again into darkness.
“I have awaited your arrival, my son.” Abraham’s voice was less heard than felt, like slugs crawling through Two’s head.
“Have you, father? I thought I had fulfilled my duties for the evening.”
“Yes. Yes, well enough. There is much we must talk about.”
“It would appear so. You are aware of Missy’s transgression, then?”
“I was aware while it happened, Theroen. You know this.”
Theroen nodded. “With respect, father, may we talk in private?”
“You would not expose your pretty fledgling to me any more than is necessary, would you, Theroen? Afraid of corruption, perhaps?”
Theroen said nothing. Abraham smiled, fangs reflecting silver-white moonlight from amidst the shadow of his face. His eyes burned red, that same dark humor behind them.
“Very well. If your daughter, or lover, or whatever it is you’ve made of her can move, she is free to do so.”
Two realized that this creature was reveling in her obvious fear, and it was this, more than anything else, that gave her the strength to get up. She moved on wooden legs away from the door, wanting to glance back at Theroen, afraid to do so. As she passed behind Abraham, she felt his mind touch hers once, like the dirty groping fingers of a licentious old man. The feeling reminded her very much of her time working clients for Darren, and her instincts lashed out, angry, against it.
Abraham turned casually toward her, and with what seemed no more than a flick of his wrist, grabbed her shoulder and whirled her aro
und to face him. The force was immense, nearly dislocating the joint and Two hissed at the pain that lanced through her. Abraham’s touch revolted her, burned into her skin through the thin leather jacket like hot iron. The sight of his eyes drained her of anger, left only a numb fear unlike anything she had felt before. Primitive, primeval, beyond consciousness. She wanted to weep, to cry out, to do anything but look at this thing before her.
“Do not forget whose blood runs in your veins, my dear, impudent little bitch. Your lover may defy me, on occasion. He has earned that right through time and service. You have not.”
“Father...” Theroen’s voice was strained, not with fear this time, Two thought, but with something beyond loathing. Two’s vision began to swim, and she realized she had not taken a breath since Abraham had laid his hand upon her. She tried now, and found she could not. Her eyes, her lungs, were locked by Abraham’s gaze. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her heart beating furiously, but to no avail. The world began to go grey, and Two felt her legs weakening.
“If you kill her, Abraham, be prepared to kill me as well. I shall surely attempt to do so to you.” Theroen’s voice held no tension, now, only a cold, deadly seriousness.
At this, Abraham grinned, and took his eyes away from Two. She slumped to the gravel, gasping for breath, head throbbing sickly. Theroen made to help her up, and Abraham put a hand out, restraining him.
“Come, my son. Walk with me. Two is Eresh-Chen, now. She can find her way to her feet on her own.” He walked toward the edge of the grounds, where grass met forest, as if a refusal were impossible.
Theroen cast a glance at Two, and she nodded, motioning him away. She had drawn herself into something of a sitting position, legs stretched out to her side, propped up on her arms. She thought she would very soon be sick, and she didn’t want Theroen to see it. His jaw clenched momentarily, his hate for Abraham clearly visible on his face. Then it was gone, replaced with that same calm that she had seen so many times before. He nodded, turned, and followed his father.
When they were safely out of sight, Two struggled to her feet. She managed two steps, head still thudding, enough to lean against the wall of the mansion’s garage as she coughed and dry heaved. Her body had already absorbed the night’s blood, and after a few more attempts, it gave up trying to expel what wasn’t there. Two leaned against the wall for a few moments longer, shuddering, waiting for the awful, spinning blackness at the edges of her vision to clear. In time, it did, and she shuffled her way into the mansion.
* * *
Chapter 5
A Tooth for a Tooth
The Mansion. The Next Evening.
Two was used to the state of waking, now. Instantly alert, instantly aware. The silk sheets that enveloped her were cool. Vampire bodies lacking in blood cast little warmth. She stretched, ran a hand through her hair, sat up. The room was empty. Theroen had not returned before sleep had taken her the night before, and he was not here now.
The house had been devoid of life, when she had entered it the previous evenings. Melissa’s room was dark and empty. No noise came from the cell in the basement. Two had made her way to the room she shared with Theroen, exhausted and horrified, and promptly collapsed into unconsciousness.
A shower seemed like a good way of prolonging the time before she would have to leave the room and face the dark things growing outside. Two sighed, padded her way to the bathroom on bare feet, and lost herself for a time in torrents of warm water.
* * *
One of the televisions downstairs was on. She could hear it as she left the bathroom. Two pulled on clothes, ran a brush through her hair, and departed. She descended the arching staircase and turned into the room she had come to think of as the media center. Large televisions, three of them, each at least four feet tall, lined one wall. Discreet wooden units housed their audio components. Couches were arranged haphazardly in front of the screens. Most of the clutter that seemed to choke the rest of the mansion was missing from this room, perhaps because it was one of the few areas of the building which received frequent use.
Theroen reclined on one of the couches, and his presence confirmed that it was Melissa who sat on another. Two found it unlikely he would tolerate Missy, particularly given recent events.
As if to confirm this, Melissa turned to her and spoke. “We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up.” She tried for a smile, managed something like one, and then looked away. Two sat down next to Theroen, who adjusted his position to allow her to recline against his chest. He said nothing.
“It was a long night,” Two said.
“Tell me about it.” Melissa sighed, shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Melissa. For whatever that’s worth.”
Melissa offered her another smile, sad, but more sincere than the last.
“I know. We need to talk about it, don’t we?” She asked. Theroen nodded. Two felt the movement. Melissa bit her lip, glanced at the TV, muted it.
“Where do we start?” Two questioned. Melissa shrugged. Theroen sighed.
“Let’s begin with a lesson on vampire biology,” He said. “How do you feel right now, Melissa?”
“Exhausted,” Melissa admitted, after a moment.
Theroen nodded. “Indeed. Certainly not in any shape to undergo the rigors of finishing the process that was started last night. In fact, your blood is so weakened at the moment that the process would not even advance. Missy is, of course, unaware of this, but at best Samantha will remain a half-vampire for decades or centuries.”
Two turned her head up to glance at Theroen. “Why?”
“Melissa’s blood needs time to rejuvenate itself. But to remain a half-vampire, Samantha needs periodic infusions of that blood. Before Melissa could strengthen enough to complete the process, she will either have to give Samantha blood in order to keep her a half-vampire, or allow Samantha to revert. If she allows the latter, then when she begins the process again, it will be to the same result. Melissa will not be prepared to create a fledgling for hundreds of years yet.”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “Great.”
“Such is the nature of our particular strain. This, of course, is the least of our current problems. It is just the most easily discussed. There are other things that we need to speak of, Melissa.”
The dark-haired vampire on the couch across from them was quiet for a long time. Finally she said, “I’ve known Missy for a long time. There, I said it. I’ve never said her name before. Missy. I hate that name. I hated it before she even existed. But I knew her before she existed. She... Abraham didn’t create her, exactly. He just woke her up. She was just a dream before that; something that only came occasionally, and brought nightmares with it where I did awful things.
“I hated those dreams. Not because they were frightening, or awful, but because in the moments right after I woke up, I could feel her. I could understand the appeal. Christ, I’d wake up totally fucking aroused, like a part of me I couldn’t feel when I was awake not only enjoyed the things in those dreams, but got off on them.
“The pain of the blood, Abraham’s blood... it brought her out. It spoke to her like nothing I had ever allowed into my life. Once she woke up, she didn’t want to go back. She can’t take over... not yet. She has to wait until I’m asleep. But she can keep me out for longer and longer each time, and she can let me back in whenever she wants. She’s stronger than I am. She spends more and more time with my body. Eventually, what happens? I wake up next to a half-vampire I don’t even know, and find out that it’s my blood that did it.
“So that’s when I really knew. This body is Missy’s. I’m just along for the ride until she beats me back completely. Then I’ll be the dream, and maybe those will be her nightmares.”
Two opened her mouth to say something, and could think of nothing to say. Melissa wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t already know. She was simply admitting the truth to herself.
Melissa was crying now, unable to look at them
. “When you first told me about Two, Theroen, you said you thought you would stay here maybe twenty years. Twenty years? I’m not sure you’ll last another twenty days. I could never read people like you could, and I could never read you... but I’ve been able to all the time for the last few weeks. Escape. Escape. It’s like a flashing neon sign in your head.
“And I can’t even f...fucking bring myself to hate you for it. Either of you. It’s not your fault, and I know it, and that makes it so hard.”
The Blood The Bonds Page 19
