"Great." I hoped the sarcasm was not lost on her. "But what do the cards say?"
She got up from the floor, poured herself another glass of wine and bolted it down. "I thought you didn't believe in such stuff."
I smiled and shrugged. "Well, you have gone to so much trouble, the least I can do is ask."
"You want a blow-by-blow description? Or just the overall view?"
I looked at the clock on her mantel. It was late, far later than I had thought. Most of the night was gone, with only wine and talk to show for it. I would need shelter during the day; I knew of a cave not too far away, but I had little time to waste on foolishness. "Overall, I think. I should be going soon."
"You can stay the day here, you know. I have an extra room and I won't disturb you. It's small but completely dark. I suppose it was to have been a storage room or something. But I use it for meditation sometimes, so there's a bed and a lamp and a heavy lock on the door. You'll be quite safe."
"Ah." I gave her a doubtful glance.
"We'll talk about the cards first and then you can inspect it. How's that?"
"Fair enough."
"You have nothing to fear from me, Deirdre." She reached over and lightly touched my arm. "I certainly know that you aren't quite human and I believe I know what you are. We needn't talk about it. But I have been your neighbor and your friend for over a year—if I'd meant you harm, you'd have sensed it by now. And"—her mouth twisted into a wry grin—"I'd have been dead. Mitch would rip my heart out if he thought I was a threat"
Just yesterday that comment would have brought me a feeling of security and love. Tonight it made my already cold blood freeze up in my veins.
"I'll stay. And the cards?"
"Oh, yes, the cards. Things will work out for the best eventually."
I almost screamed in frustration. "Jesus, Elly, that's it? Things will work out for the best eventually?"
She snickered. "You did say you wanted the overall view. And that's it. I can explain what all these cards mean, of course. There are swords." She pointed to one particularly gruesome card of a dead body impaled with ten swords. "They represent strife and conflict. And the others, well, they represent other powers in the world that seem to be opposed to you. There has been sorrow and confusion. And there will be more to come. But in the end, it will all work out. You must have faith and hope."
"Sounds easy." I stood up from the chair, stretched, and the blanket fell away from me. I'd gotten so comfortable, I'd forgotten I was naked underneath.
"So perfect," she whispered, and I blushed as I hurriedly wrapped back up again. "First things first," Elly said. "I'll get you a nightgown, get you set up in your room, and then we'll talk some more." She gave me another quick appraising glance. "So very perfect, it's hard to believe you've ever had a child."
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
« ^ »
The room was exactly as Elly described it. It had a single bed, a nightstand with a lamp, an ashtray and a half of a pack of cigarettes. The walls were bare, with the exception of a shelf that held an assortment of candles in cups. Small but safe, the room would be perfect for my daytime sleep. If I could sleep.
I had taken a shower to warm up and while I was drying off, she'd knocked on the door and handed me a plaid flannel nightgown. "Still hot from the dryer," she'd said, "and probably a bit too big for you, but it'll do."
"It will do perfectly." The gown had a clean fresh smell; I had held it up to my face and sniffed, then smiled. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," she'd said. "You get right into bed, now, and I'll bring you a cup of tea to help you sleep."
So here I was safely ensconced in Elly's little meditation nook. I sat on the edge of the antique bed; it rose high off the floor, so high that my feet did not touch the carpet. I swung my legs back and forth, appreciating the still-sweet smell that wafted off the voluminous gown, and I felt like a young child again.
Elly knocked on the door.
"Come in," I said. "It's your house."
"For you, ' she said, and handed me a cup of something hot.
I smelled it and crinkled my nose. "What is it?"
"Herbal tea. I brew it myself. In fact, I grow all the herbs in the back garden. This blend is chamomile, mostly. A little bit of rosemary. And catnip." She sat on a small wooden chair next to the bed.
"Catnip?" I smiled and sniffed at it again, then took a small sip. "It is not bad, actually, all things considered. What will it do to me?"
She laughed. "Nothing. Except perhaps relax you a bit. And, I hope, help you to sleep. I took a chance that your physiological makeup is human-based. Especially since the candles work."
I looked over my shoulder at the candles flickering on the shelf. "Well, of course they work. You light them and they burn."
"And how do you feel?"
I thought. "Peaceful. Calm. Remarkably mellow, now that you mention it."
"And are you hungry?"
It was an interesting question. I hunted deep inside my body for traces of the blood thirst; I knew that I hadn't fed for days and that I was craving human blood. But the drive wasn't there. The instinct was buried, covered up with layers and layers of comfort and peace.
I shook my head. "No, I am not hungry. I should be hungry, but I'm not. At least not enough to…"
She finished the statement for me. "… feed on me. That's good."
I blinked. Was it good? Of all times, could I afford my instincts to be suppressed now? I set the cup of tea down on the nightstand, picked up a cigarette instead. I saw no matches, so I got up from the bed and lit it from one of the candles, blowing them all out after I had finished. "All the same, Elly, I do not wish to be drugged, so I think I'll pass. And take my chances on the sleep. Just as you will have to take your chances on the other."
"Fair enough," she agreed. "I invited you in knowing what you were. I can hardly throw you out now. I'm sorry if I gave offense."
"No offense taken." I inhaled deeply. Already I felt my mind clearing of peace and comfort and the dearth of instinct. I was not so sure it was better this way, but my restless hunger had always been my truth and I did not want it taken away. "You need not fear I will feed on you. I am not that hungry and I have over a century's worth of practicing willpower."
"That long? When were you born?"
"Too long ago, Elly. It might as well be eons."
"And Mitch?"
She was determined to talk about Mitch. I sighed. "Mitch is much younger than I; he is new to the life. Or the death." I gave a sad little laugh. "He was transformed two years ago."
"And you brought him over?"
"An interesting way of putting it." I took a last long drag on my cigarette and stubbed it out angrily.
"Almost as if I had invited him to a dinner party." I hugged my arms to myself. "If only it were like that. A pleasant little invitation to a pleasant event."
She reached to the nightstand and got a cigarette for herself, lighting it with a pack of matches from her jeans pocket. "And it isn't like that? All those years, all those endless, wonderful years to spend with someone you love?"
"Love?" I blinked at her again, this time through a cloud of smoke. Anger built up within me and the Cat growled, clawing at the surface of my mind. "We know nothing about love."
I stopped and put my hands over my face, drawing in a deep breath, forcing calm upon the Cat. Slowly, I brought my hands down to my mouth, exhaling gently. "What I did to Mitch was not done out of love. I did it out of my own selfish need for him, for a companion. Out of desperation and loneliness."
"Even so, you love him, Deirdre, and he loves you."
"Does he? Yesterday, I would not have doubted that statement. But now, you see, he wants me dead. Can you blame him? I made him into an inhuman monster, took away his soul and his life."
Elly got up from the chair, walked over to the shelf that held the votive candles and picked up each cup, sniffing each one in turn and setting them back do
wn. "I make these," she said. "It involves a lot of work, gathering the herbs, blending the scents, making sure that all the elements are in place. And yet, when I pull them out of the mold, they seem so much more than what I've put into them."
"And?"
"And Mitch is more than what you have made of him. He's himself, his own man. He's with you because he loves you. I'd be willing to bet my life on that. Why won't you?"
"Because I heard him say the words. He talks in his sleep."
"In his sleep? Then he was dreaming? But that's not the same as saying the words when he's awake."
Suddenly I was angry. "What the hell difference does it make? You do not understand. Cannot understand. The dreams are real. And so are the words. I heard his voice, Elly. You did not."
"And will running away from it do you any good?"
"Of course not. Tonight I will go back and face him."
"Good. You owe him that, I think."
We fell into silence. I took another cigarette from the pack and Elly handed me the matches. I pulled one out and closed the cover, glancing at the printing as I did so. A jolt of shock shivered up my spine. " 'Meet me at the Ballroom of Romance'?" I read. "Where on earth did you get these?"
"Your place, I think, last time I was there. Why?"
I laughed. "Actually, I suspect the question is, 'Why the hell not?' I really should not be surprised. It is his damned legacy after all. I used to dream also, you see, dream of killing my maker."
"And did you?"
"Yes."
That one word took me back years. Back to the wet, cold streets of New York City and the terrifying weeks between holidays that held no meaning for one such as me. Weeks that ended with the lifeless body of Max pinned to his office door at the Ballroom.
He had been my best friend and my worst enemy. Not a day went by when I didn't curse his name. I would miss him forever.
"And"—I looked Elly straight in the eye—"do not doubt me when I say I loved him. That is how much love means to me."
She reached over and wiped a tear from my face. Then she held out her finger for me to see. "Do you always weep blood?"
I looked away from her. "It means nothing."
"If you say so."
Not very subtly, I changed the subject. "Elly? Why aren't you afraid of me? You invite me into your house, you give me wine and friendship and counsel, you even touch me. And yet you show no fear."
She laughed. "Life is too short for fear."
"For you, perhaps. But for me?"
"For you, most especially. Now, I should leave you to get some rest." She walked to the door, put a hand on the knob, then turned back around. "Will you be okay?"
I shrugged. "I will be fine. So long as I do not dream."
"You dream too? The same dreams? Is that possible?"
I thought. My dreams, when I did sleep, had been confusing, filled with darkness, the dirt of the grave and a struggling toward the light. And a deep hatred toward someone who betrayed me. Could this be what Mitch dreamed?
"It is possible, I suppose, that I share his dreams."
"But are they his?" She moved back into the room and sat in the chair again.
"Who else would they belong to? They certainly do not come from me."
"Who else indeed? I saw someone in your cards. A woman, capable of great mischief and evil, but tied to you very closely by blood. When was the last time you saw your daughter?"
"I have no daughter. I did have a child, once, stillborn. They took it away from me before I even saw it. I was changing, then, you see. Becoming what I am now." I shook my head. "They buried it, Elly, damn it, I saw the grave. The child was dead."
My hands cradled my stomach as if I could still feel the movement within, rocking back and forth on the bed. "Poor little one," I whispered, unheeding of Elly's presence, "you never even had a chance. How could you escape your fate, with your father dead and your mother dying? And all of us sacrificed to the blind hunger of a vampire."
"Deirdre?"
I looked up at her now and saw my anguish mirrored on her face. "The child was dead, Elly," I repeated with conviction. "Any other option is unthinkable. And impossible."
She said nothing.
"I should rest now," I said, crawling under the covers and turning my back to her. "Please go."
"I'm sorry, Deirdre. I didn't know. Of course the child is dead. The woman in the cards is someone else, obviously. And they are only cards, after all; they know nothing. Sleep well, my dear."
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
« ^ »
The first thing I did when Elly left was to get up from the bed and lock the door. I did not want further conversation; I did not want more questions. The ones she raised were distressing enough.
The second thing I did was relight the candles on the shelf. I made a mental note to find out from Elly what herbs she used in their making. Sam would be greatly interested. And if they could grant me a solid day's rest, I would be grateful. I had no audience right now, no reason to be proud or strong. I wanted sleep.
Turning out the lights, I lay in bed and watched the flames flicker in the glass cups; their reflections danced on the paneling behind the shelf. I felt the wash of unnatural calm and comfort sweep over me again and abandoned myself to the sensation. In the back of my mind, I heard a soft purring; even the Cat was quieted.
My last thought before I drifted off was of Mitch. "Sleep well, my love," I whispered, and reached my mind out to him, to open the link we so often shared, but felt nothing in return. Had he shut me out? Or was he sleeping and dreaming of revenge, of killing me?
I inhaled deeply; right now, I didn't care. I was too calm, too tired to worry or dwell on the situation. There would be time tonight to make it right. Time was the one thing we had in plenty.
I slept straight through until dusk, a dreamless and rejuvenating sleep. I could almost feel the sun setting as I opened my eyes; the Cat stretched and yawned, testing its claws on the edges of my mind. "We're hungry," it protested, "and we do not like the smell of this place."
"I am sure you do not, my pet, but soon we will be home." Thoughts of returning did not worry me, as they had last night. Amazing, I thought to myself, what a good day's sleep can do for one. I looked around the room for my clothes, but realized that Elly had left them downstairs. I hoped they were dry by now.
I opened the door to almost total darkness. The cabin had a feel of emptiness. There were no sounds, no movement and no life within, as if it had stood empty for years. I paused outside what must have been Elly's bedroom, and peered inside. It was neat, orderly and unoccupied. When I started down the stairs, I wondered how long I'd actually slept, then laughed to myself. I might have delivered myself into the hands of a witch, but I was hardly the Sleeping Beauty type. And any Prince Charming who came to wake me up would have a definite surprise.
"Elly?" I called out when I got to the living room, although I knew she wasn't there. I checked all the areas of the cabin, but there was no sign of her, although she had left some herbs on the table in her workroom. Putting them to my nose, I recognized some of the scents as those she'd used in her candles. And I realized that they were picked fairly recently.
After switching on a light in the living room, I saw that a fire had been lit, sometime ago, and that my clothes were folded neatly and set on one of the chairs. I dressed by the dying flames, ran my fingers through my tangled hair, laced up my boots. Finding a scrap of paper in the kitchen, I wrote her a short note, thanking her for her hospitality. I called her name one more time with no answer, before going out the unlocked front door and closing it behind me.
The night was clear and cold and beautiful. The Cat grew alert, waking from the stupor of the day; its senses tingled. "Let's run," it urged, "far and fast and wash off the scent of that place. Let's feed. I smell blood." I nodded; I too smelled blood. Fresh blood. I inhaled deeply and sighed. Human blood.
We followed the scent; it led us behind
Elly's cabin and to a still, fragile form lying on the ground outside a tidy little herb garden. "Ah," the Cat purred, "she can't have been dead long, her blood is still fresh, we will feed well for a change."
"No!" I screamed it in defiance of the instinct. And with that sound, Elly moved slightly and gave a low moan of pain.
I moved toward her. From the way her leg was twisted up underneath her, I knew that it was broken. And broken quite severely, if the smell of blood was any indication. I knelt down next to her, holding my breath, holding tight control over the Cat. "Elly?" Brushing her hair back from her face, I said her name again and her eyes opened.
"I don't know what happened," she said, in a voice so soft it could have been drowned out by the rustling of leaves. "It was almost as if someone pushed me."
"Hush," I said, examining her for wounds other than the leg injury. That was all there was, but it was bad enough. I poked my fingernail through the knee of her blood-soaked jeans and ripped the fabric down to the hem. Pushed her? Hell, it looked as if someone had cracked her leg wide open; shards of bone stuck out through the skin's surface and the entire leg from knee to foot was purple. The bleeding had stopped, but not all that long ago, judging from the warm pool beneath her leg. And she was pale and shivering; she'd lost quite a lot of blood.
"I can't fix this, Elly. And I can't move you, or you will start bleeding." I brushed her face again and tried to smile, but stopped when I realized that with the scent of blood my fangs had grown. She looked at my mouth, winced and closed her eyes. "But I will get you a blanket and call an ambulance. Will you be all right here?"
Vampire Legacy 04 - Blood of My Blood Page 6
