Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

I needed to get a grip. I wasn’t trapped in the past, despite the dire warnings about the time-stream. I wasn’t even bound by mortal death. And being a whiny baby, well, that wouldn’t get me the results I wanted either.

  I made my way to the study and stood outside the door.

  Should I knock? Go straight in?

  The door opened, choice made. Mr. Watson had beaten me there and stood ready to serve us.

  Excitement surged. I couldn’t wait to see how Edwin had grown.

  And, oh shit. I froze for the barest of seconds.

  “Charity.” Jonathan stood, attaching a fake grin to his face. His clothes were rumpled from travel. The quirk of his eyebrow said it all.

  “Darling,” I said, smoothly. I had some explaining to do.

  Jonathan may have been smiling but I wasn’t fooled. And neither was Mr. Watson. We both knew I was in deep doo-doo.

  Mr. Watson turned to leave. I wished I could go with him.

  The moment the door clicked shut, Jonathan was on me. His hands gripped my shoulders, holding me firmly in place.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” His skin had an eerie pallor. The wildness of his dark hair was due to more than traveling.

  The obvious struck me. Hard.

  He was afraid. I opened my mouth to speak and he shushed me. Hugging me close to his body he said, rather loudly, “I couldn’t stand the idea of being away from you for so long. India can wait.”

  I stiffened in his arms, ready to jerk away. This was not supposed to be happening. Why was he here? And how did he know I was at Belmont?

  Damn. Was it that stupid carriage driver?

  No. Even in modern times, Jonathan couldn’t have traveled so far in such a short time. He would have had to have had perfect timing to catch the train. And even if he did, Jonathan was not The Flash.

  Where was Edwin? He should have returned by now. Sensing a question, Jonathan covered my mouth.

  “No. Say nothing,” he whispered. “There are ears everywhere.”

  Jonathan walk-dragged me over to the windows. He let go of me long enough to undo the latch.

  Evening approached, darkness winning the battle over day. Soon, even the faint orangey glow of sunset would be replaced with the deep blue of night.

  Rather than resist, I allowed him to bundle me into his arms as he leapt over the sill.

  What on earth could have my courageous Sire on edge?

  Even when facing his imminent death, fear hadn’t touched him. Regret, sadness, resignation were there in the end, but not this dread that leaked from his carefully guarded mind.

  He touched solid ground with a whisper. We jerked forward and before I could blink, we were in the forest. Hardly the place I would seek at night to feel safe. He set me down on a patch of dry moss and nodded for me to speak.

  I slapped his arm instead. “What in the hell is going on?”

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Yes. As you’ve previously stated.”

  “You were never meant to come back here. Not now. Not ever.” Fingers trembling, he rubbed his chin.

  “You know, I like you better when you’re mad at me. Not this scaredy cat, running like –I don’t know what!”

  “Keep your voice down.” He sounded worried.

  “Why?” I crossed my arms and glared. “And where is Jay?” The idea that he might miss his family reunion made my stomach ache.

  “He’s on his way to India,” he said offhandedly, lost in whatever had him so concerned.

  I felt no fear. I should have, but it was hard to be afraid of nothing. Or at least nothing that I could perceive as a threat.

  “You don’t belong here, and I would know the reason why you came.” He grabbed my shoulders and pressed me against a tree. It was like I wasn’t even real to him anymore.

  “Let me go.” I balled my fists, preparing to swing when he turned his gaze on me.

  His pupils flared red, his fangs extended. Before I could stop or even protest, his teeth sank into my jugular. My body stiffened and I froze in place. Even if I wanted to fight, I couldn’t.

  He’d used compulsion on me before, but this was the equivalent of being encased in a foot of cement. The true nature of his power sank into me as deeply as his fangs puncturing my throat.

  Fingertips touched my temples and my mind blossomed, open to his plundering.

  Rage slammed into me. Mine, not his. He couldn’t discover why I was there. I may have been in Old Me’s body, but my mind was not his to take. Pressure built in my skull and I fought his hold.

  He groaned, then released my throat. “Why do you resist this?”

  “Because I’m pissed at you!” The answer escaped before my mind had a chance to register the feeling. “I am sick and tired of you keeping secrets from me.”

  “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

  “You’re only putting me in more danger.” I flashed my fangs at him, knowing it was stupid and reckless.

  Provoking him could backfire. If he killed me, I’d never find the Lost Ship. The deaths of my friends and family would be on my head.

  “Enough!” he roared, nostrils flaring. He stilled and scented the air. A pallor of unease fell over him again. “There is no time. You will forget and obey.”

  Power slammed into my mind, tearing into me with the force of a great white shark. I’d been a fool by assuming his previous attempt had been at full strength.

  “Wait. You don’t understand.” I grunted and went limp, my limbs no longer under my control.

  “It doesn’t matter. You will forget now.”

  “Not if I can help it.” I threw every mental block I knew his way but it was to no avail. My control was eroding faster than a sandcastle facing the oncoming tide. “Please, Jonathan. You don’t understand.”

  “That’s what you say every time.”

  “Wait. What?”

  He’d done this before.

  The shock of realization was the crack he needed.

  “You son of a bitch.” My mind slipped as my final defenses fell. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to—

  Chapter Ten

  One Small Step for Vampire Kind

  “Lady d’Aumont, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  A mortal, what was his name...? Lord Buchholz kissed my gloved knuckles.

  There was something about the man that set my fangs on edge, though, for the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Might I fetch you a beverage. Punch perhaps? I hear the hostess has created a special treat,” he said.

  I smiled and nodded. “That would be most kind.”

  A firm hand touched the small of my back. I did my best not to stiffen. “Jonathan, you’re done making the rounds?”

  We’d been in London for the better part of the social season. He’d capitulated to my demands for a Family of our own. I think he’d grown tired of my constant sighing and declarations of boredom. The south of France was dull as dishwater. Plus, never-ending time with Jonathan drove a bigger wedge between us.

  “If I didn’t know better, darling. I’d think you didn’t like me.” The tone contained a warning. He could stuff himself. I’d never forgive him for making me a vampire.

  “Run along, dearest. I don’t require a babysitter. Lord Buchholz will entertain me plenty.”

  He ran a fingertip along the nape of my neck and spoke over my shoulder. “Do try not to break this one. I grow weary of fixing your messes.”

  A laugh shook my shoulders. My last humans had grown clingy. I didn’t hurt them but they needed extra mind-wiping by Jonathan since I was still so bad at it.

  “Here you go, my lady.” Buchholz handed me the punch.

  Jonathan had disappeared, melting back into the sea of people crowding the room, no doubt making his next deal.

  As to the gathering, it was no different than the dozens we’d already attended. It was hosted by a human lord who was a close friend of King Edward so he merited extra special attention
from Jonathan.

  I may have been mad at my husband for making me a vampire, but I couldn’t fault his business acumen. He’d attempted to involve me in his pursuits, but I grew always bored with talk about money and tuned him out.

  No matter. Since becoming undead, I had long since stopped caring about such things. I longed to be free of convention and immerse myself in a different world.

  I took a sip of the fruity concoction and savored its sweet tang. The taste was familiar yet foreign. Punch. A memory flitted around my head, a stray butterfly eluding my attempts to capture it.

  “Would you care to dance?” Lord Buchholz crooked his elbow.

  I accepted without a second thought. What else was I going to do? I had one job at social functions. Look beautiful, which I had to say I could pull off quite well, even with my red hair.

  Soon we were spinning and whirling with the rest of the privileged class. A sort of fog settled over my mind as my body went through the appropriate motions.

  Turn, smile, step, turn. Wash, rinse, repeat.

  I licked my lips, faint traces of fruity punch still in my mouth.

  A dusty red landscape flashed into my mind. Dry, airless, and so far away.

  Cherry. Have you forgotten us?

  Heat warmed my right wrist, the intensity increasing until I flinched and lost my footing.

  “Are you unwell?” asked the young man dancing with me. At some point, I’d changed partners.

  Kind of like when you’re driving and lose track, wondering how you got where you were. I used to do that in Austin, driving to my lakeside home.

  Cars? Driving? Austin? What was happening to me?

  Madness had finally found me. No different than the voice I kept hearing. A women telling me to find her on—

  Carnaby Street, dearest, the voice said in my head.

  I stopped dancing. My head ached and my belly somersaulted.

  “Milady?” the man repeated his question.

  “I’m fine. But perhaps I could use some air.” I broke away, headed for the nearest exit, elbowing people out of my way.

  Damn propriety. I’d rather be rude than sick. I escaped to an empty room and opened the window, letting the fresh evening breezes slap some sense into me.

  Sick. Vampires don’t get ill. And we don’t throw up.

  Yet. I’d thrown up. My hand automatically rested where my daughter had been.

  A baby’s cries echoed in my mind. A name whispered across time. So close I could almost touch it—

  Laughter reached my ears. Carriage drivers waited on the street nearby. Collapsing in the nearest chair, I fought the urge to scream.

  Pressure built inside my skull until I thought my head might split open like a melon. I clapped my hands over my ears and groaned.

  With a pop, memories rushed toward me, so many so fast I gave up trying to capture single moments. After a while, the memories stopped.

  Ian.

  Vala.

  Mars.

  Oh yeah, I remembered.

  Jonathan. He’d done this to me. He’d made me forget my own child.

  He’d cost me valuable time with his constant need to control me. And Ian, had he come to find me only to discover I wasn’t there? And what about Edwin? Probably mind-wiped too.

  I wanted to hurt Jonathan.

  While it was unbelievably tempting to confront him, I decided to control the impulse. First, I needed to know how much time I’d lost.

  I assessed my clothing. Silk gown, beaded bodice, formal gloves. The corset told me it was still early 1900s. Good. A newspaper or correspondence would have been better. I appeared to be in a library. Sadly, I couldn’t find any letters or newspapers. The servants would have tucked them away.

  No matter.

  I could pretend nothing was different, then give Jonathan the slip. Sounded like a plan. I stopped at a mirror and checked my hair.

  Now you’re thinking, came that voice again.

  “Who’s there?” I looked behind me. Of course, there was no answer. My gaze landed on the mirror again and I jumped. A veiled woman in white stood behind me.

  “You know who I am,” she said.

  “No. I truly don’t.”

  “Your husband is a pain in my ass.”

  “You’re not kidding.” See how easy it is to give in to delusions? I might as well play along.

  “It’s taken me three months to undo what he did to you.”

  “Three months. That’s not so bad.” My shoulders sagged.

  “Good heavens. You are so dense. I blame your father’s blood.” The lady tapped her fingers on the table. Her other hand held Tarot cards.

  I’d conjured a fortune-teller figment. Right down to the beads hanging behind her and the velvet posters.

  Wait. Did they even have those things in the early 1900s?

  “I’ve lost my mind.” The evidence was clear. I’d made up a phantom that resembled Miss Havisham, and I questioned her decorating sense. Surely a sign of madness.

  “Have you?” the lady said. “Quit your dithering and find me.”

  “I know. Carnaby Street.” I crossed my arms and rocked on my heels. “Should I come ready to hear my fortune?”

  “Don’t sass me, girl. Come when the man steps on the moon. Hurry, hurry,” she singsonged as she faded away, leaving me standing there like a dumbass.

  I turned around, catching a faint hint of patchouli. Could vampires have strokes?

  Unlikely. At least I could hide out in this room until the party was over.

  Or not.

  The door opened and shut so quickly, I knew it had to be Jonathan.

  “Ah, there you are. Are you unwell?” He approached with genuine concern.

  “That depends on what you define as unwell.” I bit the tip of my tongue before I could disclose my secret awareness. “If you mean, am I utterly bored? Then, yes, I am unwell and quite ready to go home for the evening.”

  “Soon, pet. I almost have what I need. I’ll ring around for the carriage so we can make a speedy exit.” He eyed me up and down. I debated staring back at him but decided to drop my gaze. If memory served, I acted obedient in public. But who knew? He’d messed with my memory numerous times.

  I sighed. “More business talk. How tedious.”

  “There, there.” He stepped forward and took my hands in his. “I’ve done as you’ve asked. The first of our new Family will be here before you know it.”

  I greeted the news with an actual smile. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Be a good girl and I might tell you.” He peeled down my glove and kissed the inside of my wrist.

  Biting back a scowl, I nodded. Of course, I knew who it was. Not Lemmy. He was Jonathan’s personal secretary. I hadn’t seen him much in France because he stayed in London tending to Jonathan’s business. But it was someone I did like—Nina.

  Nina, when I’d last seen her, was dying on Mars because of my stupidity.

  “Hey. I thought you would be happy.” Jonathan stroked my cheeks with his knuckles.

  “I am,” I said, stopping his hand. “Thank you.”

  He studied me. “Who were you speaking to before I came in this room?”

  With a bitter laugh, I said, “Myself.”

  I could tell he didn’t believe me. I had told the truth as far as it went. I wasn’t about to share that I might be hallucinating.

  Footsteps pounded down the hallway outside the door. Servants raced, following hushed commands. The door handle turned. I stepped toward the center of the room. The tension in Jonathan’s body was taut enough to snap. I felt the ripple of power before whoever it was entered.

  The newcomer was tall, with a rounded potbelly and pale green eyes. His generous beard and mustache matched the brown of his hair.

  Jonathan gave me the side-eye, then bowed.

  I followed his lead, studying the man. The newcomer strode toward me, eyes bright and eager.

  He produced a jovial smile as if the exaltation was not on
ly expected but demanded. The rounded shape of his face, the peculiar rounded droop to his eyes, I’d seen the resemblance before. “Is this who I think it is, Jonathan?”

  “Your Highness, King Edward, may I introduce my wife,” Jonathan said.

  The king clasped both my hands. “Lady d’Aumont, I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

  My eyes widened. I couldn’t ignore the power pouring from him. My lips moved, but I’d been rendered speechless.

  Holy mother of pearl. He was a vampire. A very powerful one.

  Well, didn’t that beat all? I was holding hands with the vampire heir apparent. It never occurred to me that Queen V’s mortal-born children had been more than human. Or maybe he was the only one?

  He pulled me forward with his paw-sized hands and spoke into my head. You have some explaining to do, Cherry Cordial.

  Oh fuck.

  The library door swung shut of its own accord. At least I wasn’t completely alone with him. Jonathan stood nearby, gaze locked onto mine. If he could hear the king speak in my mind, he wasn’t letting on.

  More puzzling. The king knew my stage name. A name I wouldn’t create for another few years. What was going on?

  I studied the gray hairs in his beard and the real wrinkles on his face. Vampires didn’t look old.

  The king beamed a smile. “We have matters to discuss.”

  As if sensing my earlier question, his appearance shimmered then morphed into a younger version. His frame was slender, body lean and fit. Ruddy highlights danced on his thick brown hair and there wasn’t a gray hair or wrinkle in sight.

  You should not be here.

  Jonathan continued to stare with no sign of emotion. I guess he couldn’t hear King Edward in his head unless the king meant for him to.

  “Can we go back to how you changed your appearance?” I’d never seen another vampire do that. Ever.

  Annoyance flicked across his face. He flashed the tips of his fangs, giving me a dark smile. “I’ve been warned you’re a bit cheeky.”

  I wondered who had tattled, but I wasn’t dumb enough to push my luck. “I am who I am.”

  “Be careful that it doesn’t earn you the True Death.” There was no levity in his voice. I instinctively bared my throat, to show I recognized his greater power. He seemed amused. “Very good, child. Now tell me why you are here.”