* * *
“I’m dreaming.” Samantha was staring at Two with horrified eyes. Two had not moved. A human would have lost circulation by now, sitting on cold, hard concrete, Indian-style. Two felt as if she could stay there all day. She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then I’m insane. Locked up somewhere. Hallucinating. Someone gave me some bad acid. Something...”
“No.”
“How can you say ‘No?’ This shit is not possible.”
“I sometimes find it hard to believe, myself. I’ve only been a vampire for a few days, and I was human less than a month ago. You grow accustomed to it pretty quickly, though.”
“Forget it. I’m not buying. This is a dream.”
Two shrugged. “Okay. I don’t really care whether you accept this or not, right now. How about this? At least play along. It will make things easier in the long run.”
“Fine. I’m a vampire. You’re a vampire. Life’s a bitch. What’s next?”
“Do you want to get out of the cell? I can take you upstairs to meet the others... or Theroen, at least.”
“Who’s Theroen?”
“I guess he’d be your Uncle... sort of. If you follow the whole vampire lineage thing.”
“Whatever. If it means getting out of this hole, fine.”
“You have to promise me a few things first.”
“Like?”
“Like first, you’re not going to bolt out the door the moment I open it. You wouldn’t make it past me, and you definitely wouldn’t make it out of the mansion. Theroen would know what you were doing before you got up the steps. Even if you did get outside, you’d have to deal with Tori, and I think she’d probably kill you. So when I open the bars, let’s stay calm, okay?”
“I can do that, I guess.”
“Good. Second, try to keep an open mind. I know how hard that is... believe me, I know. Try to at least give what you’re seeing and hearing a chance, before shutting it all out.”
“I’ll try.” Samantha didn’t sound like she held much faith in herself on this point, but at least she had regained some of her composure. Two produced the key Theroen had given her, unlatched the door, and opened it.
“Okay. Let’s go upstairs.”
* * *
It was evident to Two, simply by the expression on Samantha’s face, that she was no more accustomed to such opulence than Two had been. Sam seemed unable to decide what to look at first, and was moving her head about in quick motions, like a bird, taking it all in. The size of the rooms, the sheer scope and expense of the clutter. The mansion still amazed Two at times. To Sam, it was unbelievable.
“Interesting, huh?” Two was walking slightly behind Sam, letting the girl take her own meandering course through the first floor’s many interlocking rooms.
“It’s incredible.”
There was silence for a time, as they walked. Eventually, Sam spoke again.
“So... you said the girl I met in the bar was Missy, right?”
“Yes, her name is Missy.”
“Who are you?”
Two laughed. She’d forgotten to introduce herself.
“My name’s Two. Like the number. It’s a long story.”
“Do you live here?”
“I do now, yes. For the time being anyway. Like I said before, I’m pretty new to all of this myself.”
“Did Missy do this to you, too?”
Two suppressed a shudder. “No. Missy is, well... it’s complicated. Missy is Theroen’s sister, so to speak. Sister vampire anyway; the same person made both of them. She and Theroen, and another girl: Tori, were created by the elder vampire who lives in the other wing of the mansion. His name’s Abraham, and if you never meet him, then consider yourself lucky.
“Theroen created me, but I’m not really his daughter. More of his wife, I guess. Like I said: complicated.”
Samantha said nothing. She glanced briefly at Two, and the expression spoke volumes about her skepticism.
“I know you don’t believe me, Sam. Just... let’s go on, okay? Maybe Theroen can convince you.”
Sam shrugged. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Theroen was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Two lead Samantha back to the media room. “We might as well wait here for him. You can watch TV or something.”
“I want to get out of here.”
“We can’t, yet. You need to talk to Theroen first. Trust me.”
“Why?”
Two opened her mouth to explain, but before she could, they were interrupted. The mansion’s front door opened, closed, latched. Footsteps in the hall, growing louder, coming toward them. Two turned, expecting Theroen. She was greeted instead by a nightmare.
* * *
Missy. It had to be Missy. She was standing in the doorway, drenched in blood. The red liquid coated her face, her neck, the upper area of her blouse. Her hair was tousled. Her eyes burned like embers.
“What are you doing in this room, with my child?” Missy’s voice was calm, but her expression bore malice beyond anything Two had thought possible. She leaned her weight on one hand, resting on the door frame. Her fingernails clicked out an expression of her impatience against the beveled wood.
Two breathed deeply, steeled herself, met Missy’s gaze and held it.
“Talking.”
“If I wanted you talking with her, I would have given you my permission.”
“You weren’t around. Your better half went out hunting.”
Missy retained her composure, but her lip curled up at this. She glared at Two for a moment, and then her lips formed a smile. Her eyes still spoke of hate.
“The woman you’re referring to is gone. She gave up. She let me in. First time in my life I haven’t had to wait for the stupid bitch to go to sleep to take over. She just... gave up. It was marvelous. She gave me control, and that tells me everything. I know it, and she knows it: I am the better half.”
Two opened her mouth to reply to this, and Missy held up her hand.
“Save it. I know everything, Two. Melissa’s stupid and scatterbrained and she doesn’t remember anything about me, but I remember lots of things from her time in this body. Like what Theroen’s planning. His little parting gift to his sisters. I suppose I should be upset but, really, it just makes this so much easier.
“So, yes, I know all about your little plot; the priest and the prostitute, safe and happy and away. I know what Theroen has planned for me, for Samantha, and for Tori. But he doesn’t know, Two, what I have planned for you!”
Without further warning, Missy sprung forward into the room, moving at the same uncanny speed that Two had seen before, in the forest. Samantha shrieked something incoherent, terror in her voice. Two felt adrenaline flood her body, felt it moving backward as if by some outside control. She leapt to her feet, shoving the sofa at Missy, backing away. Her hip bumped an end table, and she put it between herself and her oncoming attacker.
Missy vaulted the sofa with ease, came to rest on the carpet in front of it, and leapt again in one fluid motion. Her timing was nearly perfect, and Two was only able to dodge out of the way by fractions of a second. Missy hit the hard oak end table with the full force of her weight, and it shattered under the impact, vomiting pieces of itself in a spray around the room. Two dodged flying debris and moved behind the couch, looking around, looking for escape. The door led to the hall, but then what? Missy would catch her before she reached the mansion’s entrance.
The other vampire, the woman who shared the body with someone Two considered a friend, almost a sister, was back on her feet and raving.
“You stupid, useless whore! You disgust me. Your weakness disgusts me. Where is your protector? Your lover? Your Super Man? He is with Abraham. Abraham called to him, and he went, and left you helpless. I’m going to bring Abraham your heart on a plate, and he’ll laugh and laugh, and there’s nothing Theroen will be able to do about it!”
“Missy, Missy, wait! You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t h
ave to be like that!” Two heard herself speaking, heard the fear in her voice, and could accept it. It was the tone that made her hate herself. It sounded like an empty promise, like a bad lie. The pleading tone sounded like old memories, like her time with Darren, like empty despair. This situation was out of Two’s control, with little hope for improvement. Theroen was not here to swoop in and save her.
Missy snarled, racing around one edge of the couch. Two moved swiftly to the other, keeping the sofa between herself and those claws, hooked into talons and looking to tear at flesh. Her foot caught on something: a leg from the table. It rolled under her weight, and even Two’s enhanced senses were unable to cope with the sudden shift in balance. She stumbled backward, fell to the carpet, and landed on her back with a thud. The plush softness of the material seemed somehow obscene in light of the situation.
Missy howled in triumph and flung herself again into the air, so fast that Two’s eyes could barely track her movement. It was too late to roll, too late to dodge, too late to do anything. Time seemed to stretch out. Missy was in the air above her, a vision of death and hate and horror unlike any Two had ever experienced. Two’s hands scrabbled at her sides, looking for purchase. Looking for anything. Her hands touched something cylindrical, grabbed it in a panic, brought it in front of her.
The table leg.
Twelve inches long, three in diameter, the leg had splintered into a sharp point when the table had disintegrated. Two held it out against the oncoming impact in desperation. Missy’s eyes had time to flare wide in surprise.
The sound the piece of oak made as it entered Missy’s abdomen was indescribable. Splitting flesh, cleaving through bone, it pierced her body, the weight of her landing driving it further and further in. Two felt a sudden liquid warmth gush across her hands. She shoved, using her own strength to add to Missy’s motion, flipping the girl over on her back. Missy somersaulted, flailed in the air, and crashed to the floor on her back. Two rolled away, blood on her hands, her clothes, the carpet, everywhere.
Missy was making strangled choking noises, clawing at the stake in her chest, unable to get a decent handhold through the blood and the pain. She writhed on the floor, unable to lie flat. The point of the table leg held her back in an arched position. She screamed, and the scream became wet and strangled, filling the air with red mist. Then she fell back against the stake, and was still.
* * *
Two lay on the ground, waiting for her limbs to stop shaking. It seemed an eternity, was in truth only moments. She pushed herself to a sitting position and looked at the body on the floor in front of her. She was vaguely aware of Samantha’s presence beside her. The half-vampire spoke, her voice taught and breathy with tension. “Holy shit!”
The body on the floor jerked at this sound, arms flailing, and clawed at the wood of the entertainment center to its left. Missy’s hands gripped into the wood, splintering it. With an effort, she hauled herself upward, leaning against the wood, coughing blood. She brought her feet around and slumped into a sitting position, leaning against the cabinet, looking at the stake in her chest.
“Oh, God,” Two moaned. She scrambled backward on her hands, like a crab, away from the figure.
At this, the girl’s head jerked upward. Her eyes locked with Two’s. Not Missy’s eyes, Two realized. Melissa’s.
“Oh, God!” Two cried. “Oh, no! Melissa...” She moved back toward the woman, on hands and knees.
Melissa regarded her calmly, opened her mouth, tried to talk. A crimson bubble formed, burst at her lips, and the words came.
“Two. Two, stop. It hurts. Please stop.”
Two had been yanking at the stake, not knowing what else to do. The wood had pierced just below Melissa’s breastplate, traveling at an upward path, emerging just to the left of her spine, some six inches above the point of entry. Two wasn’t sure if the wound was fatal or not, but it seemed likely. She looked at Melissa, tried to say something supportive, and instead burst into tears.
Melissa took her hand.
“It’s okay, Two. Thank you. She’s gone. She’s dead, Two. You killed her. Thank you. I’m dying too, I guess, but that’s okay. I told you: I was going to die anyway.”
Two was making whimpering sounds, between her sobs. She wanted words to come. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Her throat seemed incapable of forming articulate sound. She pressed her forehead against Melissa’s, pressed her lips against the bridge of Melissa’s nose.
“Sisters.” Melissa’s voice was weakening. She turned her head, coughed blood again, looked at Two in apology. Two reached out and smoothed Melissa’s hair away from her eyes.
“It’s not so bad. It’s all right. I don’t even feel it anymore. I’m all numb. It’s not so bad, Two. It’s not so bad, Theroen.”
Melissa’s eyes moved away from Two, focused on a point behind her. Theroen stood in the doorway, motionless. His expression was calm, almost peaceful, but there were tears in his eyes.
“Is it not, Melissa?” He asked.
“No. Theroen?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you... for the years. You gave me more than I deserved.”
“Melissa. My sister, you deserve far more than anything I could ever have given.”
Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, looked back at Two. Her voice was little more than the movement of air past her lips.
“You’re going to be a wonderful vampire. He loves you. An eternity of love, Two. Don’t cry.”
Two found her voice at last, a brittle croak that made her throat ache. “I’m sorry for this, Melissa. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m free. You’re free. Don’t be sorry.”
She looked again at Theroen, who had moved to kneel beside her, and opened her mouth to say something else. It never came. As she drew in breath, her chest hitched once. Twice. Settled. Melissa’s eyes grew wide and distant, distant and dark; like a glass reflecting eternity. Two made a low, sorrowful noise, closed her eyes, held Melissa’s hand. Theroen spoke, but his voice was distant. Distant and dark.
“Peace be with you, Melissa. If there is a God, and if he is just, he will bring you to a better place than this.”
Two felt herself rising, felt herself moving away, running away, as far away as she could go. She made six feet before she tripped, stumbled, fell to the floor. Her hands clenched at the carpet, as if to tear it from the floor. Death, despair, love. The love made it worse, somehow. An eternity of love.
Two put her face in the soft loops of fabric, sobbing.
* * *
It took nearly a minute of calling her name before Theroen was able to gain Two’s attention. She looked at him, blinking and unable to comprehend, then shook her head to clear it. Theroen watched as her eyes filled again with horror, with despair.
“Don’t.” A simple word, delivered in the same calm, strong manner in which he always spoke. Not a request, not a command. Almost a piece of advice, as in the car, the first night she had met him. Don’t.
Two clenched her fist, fought down the sorrow that wanted to engulf her, and looked again at her lover.
“We’re in danger, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes. Very much so, I’d say. This has not gone according to plan. Anyone’s plan. Unbeknownst to me, there were many of those.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your death at Missy’s hands was meant to be Abraham’s parting gift to his son. Just a little, dark comedy. A way of thanking me for centuries of service, and a reminder of who truly holds the power, now and forever. It seems he underestimated your abilities.”
“Or my luck.”
“Regardless, you are alive, and Missy is dead. It is regrettable that she took Melissa with her, but this was inevitable. Abraham will not be pleased with this. I think it best that we leave. Now.”
“Can I come?” The two vampires had forgotten Samantha, who had thrown herself behind the couch when Melissa
’s body had initially jerked back to life.
Theroen sighed. He looked at Melissa’s body, looked at Samantha, looked at Two.
“You promised her, Theroen,” Two reminded him.
“I did, yes.”
“So let’s go.”
Theroen nodded. “Yes, Samantha, you may come.”
Two looked over at Melissa. “What do we do with... with the body?”
“Abraham will take care of it. No, don’t argue. I realize how preposterous it sounds, but you have to trust me. One of the few customs he seems to care about is giving dead vampires a proper funeral. He will conduct services, and then he will burn her, but he will do both with reverence. I do not know why he does this, but I have seen it more than once. It is the only thing in him that seems still human.”
The Blood The Bonds Page 21
