by Garon Whited
“Yes, you did. Is it something I need to worry about?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Tough question. I gave it some thought, then thought about it some more.
“Maybe,” I hedged, “before we get into that, we need to look at something closer.”
“Such as?” she asked. She arched an eyebrow at me.
So that’s what it feels like. Huh.
“Let me start by saying I suck at relationships. Having them, talking about them, understanding them. I have several things I’m not good at, but that tops the list. Okay?”
“Understood. You suck. Proceed.”
“Yes. Thanks for being so understanding.”
“You’re a guy. Your default position is lousy at the whole ‘feelings’ thing. I’m used to that.”
“That makes it a little easier… I think. The question is, what are we to each other? I mean, we’re obviously allies, and lovers, and you’re some sort of hybrid vampire species progeny of mine. In this instance, though, I think we need to focus less on those and more on our relationship.”
“An endeavor at which you suck,” she added.
“Yes, I suck at them. I get that you get it.”
Mary giggled. I realized in a flash that she was teasing me.
“Look, Boss—”
What did I say? Firebrand asked.
“Sorry,” Mary apologized, before turning to look at me again. “Look, my dark and sinister snuggliciousness, this is not as complicated as you make it out to be. At first, you were the really nice guy I didn’t want to see killed by the rest of the tribes—I admit it; I have soft spot for naïve goofballs and for terrifying, ancient monsters. I seldom get both in one package. Also add I was pretty bored with my life. Saving you would probably be good for some real excitement, and I was severely short on that. Plus, you’re quite nice on the eyes. That helped, too.”
“I am?”
“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” she advised. “After that, I realized I was stuck with you. If I tried to go home after that, or even if I walked away, someone would find me and show me a sunrise. I kicked myself over that for a while, but I also realized I was right. You were worth saving.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, well… it wasn’t all altruism on my part,” she admitted. “I was in favor with the most powerful member of the blood in the world. I saw it as an opportunity. At least, for a while. I’m not sure where I started liking you more than the idea of drinking your blood, but…” she shrugged. “Somewhere around the first time we ate breakfast together—a mortal breakfast—I caught on you were way more important to me than as a blood supply. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“So, here’s the deal. Our relationship is this: I like you. I like you a whole lot. I don’t want to say I love you. Every time I’ve ever said it to someone, things have gone badly. But I like you so much I want you around all the time. I want you to touch me, obviously. And I want to hear your voice, whether we’re talking over breakfast, or whispering before breaking into a place, or yelling as we run through a burning building. I want to sit on the sofa inside your head and feel your thoughts and memories as you share them with me.
“You… amuse me? No,” she contradicted herself, “that’s not the right word. That makes it seem like you’re a bit of entertainment. You are entertaining, but there’s more to it. You make me feel as though… everything is going to be all right. We’re going to fight nasty people. We’re going to bleed. We’re going to hurt and be hurt and risk the ultimate death. But we’ll get through it and everything will turn out better. There will be ups and downs along the way, but the trend will be upward. It’s like you make the world better by being in it. No,” she corrected herself again, “not the world. My world, wherever I happen to be. Okay?”
We sat there in awkward silence while I digested that. For someone who didn’t want to say she loved me, she was doing a pretty good job of it.
“All right,” I agreed. “I think I understand. I say I think I understand because, in general, I feel much the same way about you. Having you around is… good. The world seems like a better place because of you. So, yeah, I think I get it.”
“Good. We’ve reinvented friends-with-benefits. Now, am I going to have to kill this Tort person in a fit of jealous rage? Or am I going to have to get used to the idea of threesomes?”
“She makes the world a better place, too.”
“So, it’s not only me?”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
“You have someone you… care deeply about, in the same way you care about me?”
“It’s similar,” I admitted. “She’s different from you, of course. Mortal, but she’s a magician—a professional, degree-holding, master of magical arts—and has extended her lifespan, so she doesn’t look older than thirty. She started out as a kind of adopted daughter, remember?”
“You told me how you rescued her, became her angel.”
“Yeah. She kind of adopted me in return. She loves me, and I can say that without any shadow of a doubt. I love her, too—it’s taken me one coma, a possession, and about a hundred years, but I finally figured it out. I will do anything it takes to protect her or avenge her. I don’t love her in the same way I… um, care about you, but she matters to me. She’s important to me.”
“So, she’s kind of like… a mortal pet?” Mary hazarded.
“I… hmm.” I had to think about it. “I don’t think that’s quite fair.”
“Maybe not. But she’s mortal. She’ll die someday and you know it. Until then, she’s yours and you won’t stand for anyone kicking her.”
“I confess I dislike the demeaning metaphor, but, while it’s not what I’d call precisely right, I can’t really say it’s wrong.”
“I’m okay with that. Both ways. You don’t have to like the metaphor, but it’s the only one I’ve got. And if she’s yours, well, she’s yours. I’m okay with that, too.” Mary chewed her lip for a moment and I envied her ability to do so without shredding it. “If you want to have pets—I don’t know what else to call them—then that’s fine. I can be jealous and I know it. I admit it. But pets and lovers aren’t quite the same thing.”
“Um… she and I… because, during the day…”
“Yes, so I gathered. And that’s fine, too. Weird, from a vampire perspective, but fine. Sex itself is weird when you’re undead, but I’m getting used to it again. What I’m trying to get at is I’m immortal, right?”
“Right.”
“You’re immortal. Right?”
“Right.”
“She’s not. Right?”
“Right.”
“Do you plan to make her immortal?”
“I haven’t given it any thought,” I admitted.
“If she asked, would you?”
“Yes.”
“That was a snap answer,” she pointed out. “Would you like to think about it for a minute?”
“No, but thank you for the offer. It’s the answer, the only answer. My answer. I love Tort and I know it. She’s a big girl; she knows what she would be getting into. I would never force it on her, but if she asked, I would give it to her. She could ask for my fangs, if she wanted, and I’d ask why—but I’d be reaching for pliers even while asking.”
“Huh. Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Good to know. So, she’s going to live a long time because she’s a magician. In a decade or six, when she’s starting to think about her mortality and suchlike, we can revisit this. If she’s going to be one of us—in the sort-of dead sense—then we need to talk about it. If she’s merely another mortal, of whatever sort, I can live with it. Like… like your queen, Lissette. You have concubines or consorts or whatever they are, right? That doesn’t make them queens.”
“I think I get it. You’re my—what? Vampire bride?”
“Ooo!” she exclaimed, grinning and clapping her
hands. “That sounds delicious! I can live with that.”
“And anyone else is a mortal amusement? A beloved pet?”
“They can live with that.”
“Don’t you mean you can live with that?”
She opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue along one of her extended fangs, slowly and delicately.
“I know what I said.”
“I guess that’s fair. I didn’t realize you felt that way about mortals.”
“Most of the time, I don’t. They’re another sort of people. Sometimes not-yet-vampires, sometimes obstacles, and sometimes dinner. In this case, I’m a little… what’s the word?”
“Territorial?”
“Good word,” she agreed. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, sounding anxious.
“It depends on how dangerous it is for my pets, I guess.”
“I’m trying to put a spin on this to let me think of them in a non-threatening way. I like you, and I’m trying to avoid thinking of anyone else as a threat to us developing our relationship. It has the potential to redefine ‘long-term,’ you know. I would like to be prepared for whatever history you may have—and vampires can have such an awful lot of history, not to mention baggage.
“If I have to deal with a mortal wife and lovers, I’m going to be judgmental and territorial. I know it, and I’m letting you know it. Get used to the idea. Not because you don’t have a choice, but because I don’t. I know how I work. I’m not always proud of it.”
“Okay. We’ll both be as patient and understanding as possible. Deal?”
“Deal. And I want you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“If you ever decide I’m being difficult, don’t ignore it. Talk to me. Discuss with me. If necessary, yell and scream with me. Do not quietly take it and never say anything. I will feel ignored and unappreciated, as though I don’t matter to you. Too much tolerance and patience will make you seem as though you don’t care.” She smiled, sadly. “I’ve been down that road before, too. When I was still alive. I know where it goes and how it ends.” She slid closer to me in the water and put her head on my shoulder. “I thought I ought to mention it, since you suck at relationships.”
I thought about it for a minute. I couldn’t think of anything to say. On the other hand, I could think of a good conversation stopper. I picked her up and carried her dripping from the bath. She put her arms around my neck.
“Mind if I ask what you’re doing?” she asked. “Not that I object, so far.”
I took her to one of the other bedrooms, tossed her on the bed, and pinned her down. With my mouth next to her ear, I whispered softly.
“I really don’t care if we break this furniture,” I told her. She leered up at me with a heavy-lidded gaze and a wide, sensual smile.
“Have I mentioned I like you a lot?”
I didn’t teach my flesh-welding spell to Mary, but I did show her how I cast it, then gave her control of it. My wounds weren’t deep, but most of them were pretty long. I handled her wounds; I forgot to bring my fingernail grinder. As long as we had the magic for it, why not? It saved the first-aid sprays for special occasions.
She’s vicious at unarmed combat. If I hadn’t started it, it would have been touch and go. As it was, since I’m not entirely ignorant and I outweigh her by a factor of three or four, I succeeded in my attempt to subdue her. Sort of. I have the feeling she wasn’t really trying. Mary enjoyed it enormously. It’s really not my cup of tea. It’s not even my cup of distilled water. But as long as she enjoys it, I’ll make the effort. Maybe it’ll grow on me, if she doesn’t accidentally hit an artery in the process.
I cast a spell to connect the main mirror in the Imperial bedroom to my pocket mirror. It would work like call forwarding; any incoming communication would be shunted to my pocket mirror. I didn’t want to miss a call if T’yl tried to reach me.
I wanted to go check out the Great Arch; Mary wanted to continue exploring. We compromised. Bronze dropped me off at the Plaza of the Arch and carried Mary on an alarm-bell tour of the city. I got to examine ancient workmanship in the magic of the Arch. She got to play amateur archaeologist.
The Gate was an impressive piece of work. As I suspected, it wasn’t a physical construct, but a magical one. Energy was packed so densely as to form what seemed to be a solid structure. Degenerate energy, like degenerate matter, possibly? It wasn’t regular matter, of course. Rather, it was in a state between regular energy and matter. It was also quite large and powerful.
As I examined it, I discovered it was tuned specifically for its twin in Tamaril. That made sense; it would be unable to miss its intended destination and the ongoing power requirements would be drastically reduced. The only place it could reach out to was the other Arch. Other gates could make contact with this one only if it wasn’t in use. In effect, it was a door that could be opened only to Tamaril, but any other magical door could open to here. Or like a phone with only one number on speed-dial, it could call only one place while any other phone could call it.
That might explain the lack of traffic. Nobody wants to go to a cursed city of the ancients if they can’t turn around and come right back.
On the other hand, Zirafel, City of the Sunset, was the western capitol of the Empire. Tamaril, City of the Dawn, was the eastern capitol. What did Sparky do to Tamaril? Anything? Or was it still there and hadn’t heard about the curse on Zirafel being broken? How could it not have heard? So, why was this place still abandoned?
I resisted the urge to open the Great Arch and see if Tamaril was still standing. It wasn’t easy to resist; I really wanted to know. Besides, if we had to run from something, Tamaril might be a good choice—the only choice, if we were going through the Great Arch; we can’t open it to anywhere else, after all. T’yl could open a gate from the mountain’s gate room, though, to let us through. But if we activated the Gate from this end, it would alert everyone in Tamaril that Zirafel was once more open for business. I’m also not sure I could establish a connection to Tamaril and then break the connection. It wasn’t meant to be turned off.
I was pleased to discover I understood the spell of the Gate better than I thought. Taking the base spell apart and examining it really improved my comprehension. I couldn’t improve on the workmanship in the Great Arch, but I thought I might have some things to talk about with the original designers. Procedural questions, mainly. Why do it one way and not the other way? Why have thirty-eight variable transformation subroutines for a point-to-point gate? Why not an even forty? Or thirty-five? That sort of thing.
The day moved on into afternoon and the weather started to warm up. I clenched my teeth and ignored the idea the edges of the world should melt. Variable star. That’s my theory and I’m quite happy with it, thank you. It’s none of my business how the so-called gods run the place. It’s possible, somewhere, I might find a world where a shining-faced deity actually drives winged horses across the sky every day. If there is such a place and I find it, I won’t like it any better and will probably leave immediately.
Back at the Palace, I found Mary digging into dinner. She was dressed for the occasion, too. Lots of silky stuff, low-cut and flowing, in every color the clothier’s art could manage and then some; I suspected spells. Her jewelry was also impressive. A net of silver and sapphires restrained her blonde hair. A diadem with an emerald the size of the first joint of my thumb adorned her brow. Elaborate traceries of wire circled and banded her ears; long, hair-fine streamers of gold and diamonds came down to her shoulders. Broad bracelets of gold twinkled with intricate designs. A necklace, almost a mantilla, covered her shoulders and down to the top of her dress with a web-pattern of braided silver and white gold.
She stood up and curtseyed.
“Like it?” she asked, and turned in place. Fluttering afterimages of color followed her every movement.
“Very nice,” I agreed. “I’m no expert on fashion, but that’s a head-turning outfit anywhere. It helps that you�
��re in it, of course.” Mary smiled widely and bobbed again.
“Did you know,” she asked, “the Imperial family didn’t live here?”
“Now that you mention it, yes. I didn’t remember it until you brought it up. My mental library isn’t as organized as I’d like.”
“I saw. I’ve been exploring the city and I found their residence. It’s not like these state chambers. It’s much more personal.”
“That explains the clothes.”
“Yep. There’s tons of wardrobe and it’s all preserved. Quite a number of the wealthier-looking places are in good shape, but there are even more with broken robot maintenance things in them. I don’t know what went wrong.”
“That’s weird. They shouldn’t break down. Then again, they could wear out over time.”
“I think that’s it. The busted ones were solo. The working ones were in pairs. I’ll bet they maintain each other as well as the homes and property.”
“You’re probably right.” I ran a length of diaphanous material through one hand. “Nothing objected to you taking any of this?”
“You know, nothing did. I didn’t even get challenged by a statue or anything. I’m thinking they relied less on magic and more on guards. They had some pretty decent locks, though. I left most of the magical ones alone, but I got all this from things I could open.”
She gestured toward the bedroom and I whistled. There was a pile of stuff—clothes, jewelry, all sorts of miscellaneous goods. Well, she was a professional housebreaker. She didn’t do it for the money; she did it for the fun of it. And she always wanted to be an international jewel thief.
“Congratulations. You’re now an inter-universal jewel thief.” I held up a pendant with a deep yellow stone on it the size of a golf ball. “This, all by itself, will earn you a place in history. If you want it.”
“Thank you.” She curtseyed again. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talents. Dinner?”
I sat down with her at the table and started eating. The dish warmed the food to a good eating temperature. We ate for a bit before Mary resumed.
“I also found some other stuff that wasn’t totally shot. This place is mostly a ruin, but a few of the unmaintained buildings aren’t too bad, aside from the dirt. I checked a few of them out. Public buildings, for the most part. These guys knew how to build.”
