“I will,” he said, with a particularly hostile look at Griffin. Then, he let his steely gaze sweep the room. “The other thing you should know is that I’m a vampire.”
Nobody said anything for several minutes.
The problem was Hollywood. Everyone in the room was scrutinizing Sebastian trying to decide if he fit their image of a vampire. Other than the long black hair and sharp, handsome features, he probably didn’t. He did have a penchant for wearing black, but not exclusively. Tonight, in deference to the heat, he wore a UW-Madison T-shirt. He had faded, scuffed jeans he usually wore to work in his garden and tennis shoes. If I didn’t know him, I might guess he was some kind of hippie, the kind to grow his own herb, if you know what I mean.
No leather coats, no slow-mo high-kickin’ ninja moves. I’d been telling him for months that he should invest in a lot more leather or at least some cool, blue-tinted sunglasses or something. The more people looked at him, the more incredulous they seemed.
My eyes strayed to the spider plant hanging on the remaining bit of longbow arrow shaft still stuck in my wall. The Vatican witch hunters had transfixed Sebastian to the wall there. They’d “staked” him through the heart, but to everyone’s surprise—other than Sebastian’s, of course—it hadn’t killed him. That’s when I realized that everything I thought I knew about vampires from the movies was suspect.
“So you’re like a psychic vampire or something?” Max asked, clearly voicing the question on everyone’s mind.
Sebastian glanced at me because he’d just lost our bet. Now he owed me a dinner out at Portabello’s. I’d told him that the group would much more easily swallow my Goddess than his vampirism.
He sighed. “No,” he said.
“So . . . you’re a bloodsucker?”
William cringed about the same time I did.
Having been on the receiving end of the glare that pinioned poor Max right now, I pitied him. “That’s not the word I’d use,” Sebastian said.
“Okay. You’re a blood drinker,” said Blythe. “That’s cool. I mean, it’s your thing, but what does it have to do with the coven?”
It took me a few seconds to figure out what Blythe was talking about. Then I suddenly remembered that there were regular humans who called themselves vampires who got turned on by cutting or biting people and drinking their blood.
“He’s a real vampire,” William said. “Not just someone into blood.”
“Vampire,” Xylia said. “You seriously expect us to believe the whole coffin, risen-dead thing?”
Sebastian opened his mouth to reply when Marge said, “To rise from the dead, you’d have to be really old, like from before the Civil War.”
Everyone looked to Marge askance.
She blinked a little under the scrutiny, but continued. “Embalming,” she said. “It’s not required here in Wisconsin, but it’s really unusual for someone not to be unless they’re Amish. Although embalming is kind of a stupid practice. Doesn’t really preserve the body, not long-term anyway, and then you have all the pollutants that leach into the ground water. But, the thing is, even if you managed to not be embalmed, you’d still have to bust through the coffin, plus the sheer amount of concrete you’d have to break through in the vault.” She counted each point off on her fingers. “Nope. You get buried, you’re staying put, I say. Plus, most people are cremated these days, anyway. It’s a real problem for monument manufacturers. Although cemeteries prefer it. Saves space, you know.”
Some people were looking a little green in the gills. William asked, “And why do you know all this?”
“Oh,” she said, her hand fluttering to that pendant of hers. “I’m the secretary at Sunset Memory Gardens.”
“You work at a cemetery?” I couldn’t tell who’d said that, but they sounded pretty ooged out by the idea.
“I answer phones,” she said a bit defensively.
“Well, okay then,” I said, steering the conversation back on track as best I could. “I know this is a lot for everyone to take in. I also figure you have some decisions to make now that you know our secrets. Some of you may choose not to come back. That’s cool. I only ask that you respect our need to keep secret what you’ve learned here.”
“Like anyone’d believe me, anyway,” someone muttered.
“Someone would,” I said sharply. “The Order of Eustace has come here once before. If they caught wind of us . . .” The Order considered themselves a modern offshoot of the Inquisition, and they used any means necessary to destroy practitioners of true magic. For them to find us? It didn’t bear thinking of. I didn’t want to go through all that again. My voice broke a little, despite myself. “I’m just asking you to be careful.”
“We’re meeting at my place next time,” William said. “Interested parties can talk to me about getting directions and stuff before you leave.”
“That’s great, William,” I said with a smile. “So, everyone should feel free to ‘eat, drink, and be merry.’ ” I said, quoting a bit of the Charge of the Goddess.
People instantly started talking among themselves. I noticed Marge eyeing Sebastian from the archway. Her gaze was steady and measuring. I’d been surprised how accurate she was about vampires. Parrish had explained to me that the practice of embalming pretty much wiped out vampirism post-Civil War. I guess embalming had been put into common practice at that time because so many dead soldiers needed to be transported long distances. Given that part of the process involved exsanguination, no turned vampires survived it. Burial, it seemed, was a necessary part of the magic of transformation. You could still do it, of course, you just had to make sure that no one else took care of the body. Harder to do in this modern era.
Her knowledge made me suspect she was someone’s ghoul. I turned to Sebastian. “Are you eating Marge?”
“Sorry, what?” Though he tried not to show it, I could tell by the way he slumped against the back of the couch that he’d been pouting.
Poor baby. Sebastian wasn’t used to being regarded as a loony. Most days he passed for normal.
Not like me. I didn’t even dress normal. Tonight, I’d chosen a black, sparkly, spaghetti-strap tank top and a black mini covered in red bats. My hair was spiky and dyed jet-black, like the eyeliner I used to ring my eyes. Plus, every time I opened my mouth to comment on someone’s aura or the alignment of the stars people looked at me like they furtively eyed Sebastian right now. I patted his thigh. “Marge,” I said. “Is she one of your ghouls?”
“None of my ghouls are here. In fact, I’d be surprised if anyone’s were. Ghouls are discouraged from practicing magic,” Sebastian said.
I snorted. “There are rules about this?”
“Certainly. Think about it for a second, darling. What would happen if all the cows in the world could cast spells?”
Should I be offended he was talking about people as cows? Still, I got the picture. “There’d suddenly be a lot more vegetarians.”
"Right,” he said.
"You said the ghouls were ’discouraged,’ ” I repeated. “But how do you enforce it?”
“There are ways,” he said cryptically.
I raised my eyebrows. There was a lot I didn’t understand about ghouls, mostly because I didn’t really want to know. I tried not to have any contact with them, and honestly, this was about the most Sebastian or I had ever talked about ghouls or ghoul culture. Given my jealousy issues, I was okay with that, so I let it go.
Anyway, the lemonade needed refreshing again.
Sometime after midnight, everyone, even Blythe, who hung on until the last possible moment, went home. Sebastian and I were alone at last.
“So,” he said as he closed the downstairs door. “What do you think? Anyone worth having?”
Having? That was an interesting way of putting it. Was he thinking about having Blythe or just being inscrutably British? Instead of asking him that, I decided to swallow my jealous impulse. “I don’t know. Who did you like?”
We started
up the stairs. My bare feet slapped noisily on the hardwood. We were in the foyer, which was the public space between my apartment and the downstairs neighbors. The foyer had vaulted ceilings covered in pressed tin. The wainscoting was worn in places and the plaster was cracked, but you could still see the ghost of its former glory in the oak trim and the tulip bulb chandelier. I stepped past the blue recycling bins heaped with the neighbors’ cheap brown glass on my way to my apartment door.
“Blythe seems promising,” Sebastian commented casually.
I’ll bet. “You think?”
“She’s studied a great deal. That sort of knowledge can be very useful.”
Sebastian would be turned on by smarts. It was kind of his thing, being an alchemist himself. He approached a lot of things with an Age of Enlightenment kind of scientific approach. Me, I’m like Barbie; math is hard.
Sebastian held the door to my apartment for me like a gentleman, and I slipped through under his arm. As I passed, I caught the scent of him—a strangely compelling combination of axle grease and cinnamon.
“Yeah, but book smarts will only take you so far in real practice,” I said.
“I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Hmmm, there was so much I could say to that, but I couldn’t seem to formulate any response other than pursed lips.
“What about you?” Sebastian asked as he flopped himself down on to the couch. “Anyone you liked?”
“Griffin,” I said just to be argumentative.
Half-filled plastic cups and potato-chip crumbs littered my apartment. Despite the postparty/postapocalyptic décor, I couldn’t summon the energy required to tidy up. Just looking at the clock on the wall made my eyes gritty and my throat scratchy with a desire for sleep. Cleanup would have to wait until morning.
“You liked the metalhead?”
I settled into the oversized beanbag on the floor opposite Sebastian. It smelled a little like nacho dip and someone else’s aftershave. I made a mental note to spray down the vinyl with Lysol later. “You just don’t like him because he gave you grief.” Plus, despite the death-metal look, he was kind of cute.
“Well,” Sebastian said, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It does present some problems if he remains resistant to me.”
Resistant to him? Did he want to have everyone in Thrall so he could have them for lunch? My lips twisted up before I could stop them.
“What’s that look for?” he demanded.
“I think it’s good to have someone in the group who pushes a bit, someone who doesn’t take everything on faith. I think it makes the coven more honest.”
Sebastian’s eyes roamed over me for a long moment before he spoke. “I get it,” he said. “He’s like you used to be.”
“Hardly,” I laughed. “I was the earth-mother sort. Birkenstocks and hemp skirts.”
“Yeah, but you were the one who riled things up, weren’t you? Who asked the questions no one else would.”
I gave in to a smile. “Yeah, I guess I was.”
“All right then. You can have Griffin if I can have Blythe.”
Again with the “having.” “Okay,” I grudgingly agreed, hoping we were only talking about coven membership and not anything more.
“Anyone else?” Sebastian asked. His eyes glittered with excitement. Despite being able to wander about in the daylight, nighttime energized Sebastian. I could tell he was ready and willing to spend all hours debriefing and comparing notes. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have his superhuman stamina.
“Can we talk about it in bed?” I said around a yawn.
His eyes twinkled. “Absolutely.”
I smiled, but my shoulders sagged. I wasn’t really in the mood for sex, but I also didn’t have a good reason to turn down the offer. For once, I had the day off work tomorrow, so I could sleep in. The hour was late, but once things got under way I’d certainly forget all my sleepiness. Still . . . I couldn’t help but wonder what prompted this sudden interest. Was it really me or was he still thinking about Blythe?
Of course, if I said no, she’d seem ten times more attractive.
“You’re not up for it, are you?” Sebastian asked. “Too worn out, love?”
“I’m never too tired for you,” I said. Smiling, I held out my hand. I was tired, but I was going to be damned if I was going to let that other woman occupy his mind. He wanted sex? I was going to take that boy and show him why he came home to me every night despite all the other ghouls.
His grin widened as I led him to the bedroom.
2.
Moon
KEYWORDS: Instincts, Moods, Habits
Sebastian flipped me over and went for my throat.
We’d been playing kind of rough from the start. A little tease here, a little taunt there. I’d pulled at his clothes and he’d torn my underwear a bit. In the morning, I was going to have cloth burns in odd spots.
Now I found myself holding on to the headboard and feeling his breath hot on my neck. His hands roamed the contours of my breasts. I shivered. He was going to bite me, I was sure of it.
I arched my back, driving us together, harder. I needed him to know I wanted it. His lips touched my neck soft, fluttering. I pushed us deeper and was rewarded with a deep moan from him. Teeth nipped at my shoulders, pricking skin, but not sinking deeply. I rocked faster.
The headboard banged against the wall, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment thinking of my downstairs neighbors. The flush of my cheeks was lost in the general heat of passion. Sweat trailed down my body, slicking the spaces between us.
Sebastian groaned. I was certain his vocalization was a prelude to biting me, so I steeled myself to surrender to it. Thrusting myself toward him, I found myself vaguely disappointed when it was lips, not teeth, that met my shoulder. Sebastian came a moment later and, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice that my own passion flagged.
We disentangled and lay on the bed panting.
The heat of the room was stifling. Even so, Sebastian reached out and entwined his hand with mine. His thumb caressed the back of my hand where our fingers curled together. We lay there holding hands, and I could sense his breath evening out. My own eyes started to feel heavy, but I rolled onto my side and gave Sebastian a heartfelt peck on the cheek.
“I love you,” I whispered in his ear.
He chuckled. “I always thought that when you said that after sex, it didn’t count.”
“Only for a guy,” I teased, stroking his hair with my free hand. Unlike mine, his was silky and completely devoid of sweat. “How is it,” I asked him, “that you’re impervious to the temperature, but you’re not cold as a corpse?”
I felt the mattress bounce as he shrugged. “Magic?”
Unlike a traditional vampire, Sebastian had been “turned” by his own alchemical formula. As he was fond of saying, he had no blood sire but science. Though, when his formula ran out after a thousand years, we discovered that there was also a strong element of magic that he hadn’t been able to reproduce until he met me—well, me and Lilith, anyway.
“Do you think we should tell Lilith about our engagement?” I asked, flopping back to stare at the ceiling.
“How are you proposing we do that, exactly? I mean, doesn’t She already know?”
It was my turn to shrug. “I suppose,” I said, “But I get the sense She’d love to see you on your knees.”
Sebastian hadn’t actually gotten down on one knee for me, but he had been awfully romantic. He’d sent me a formal invitation to high tea at his place. On our first day together, he’d made me cucumber sandwiches and the whole traditional thing. So, I’d dug out a nice sundress, some white gloves, a big straw hat, and sandals. I imagine I must have looked a bit like a Goth Mary Poppins tooling up to his farm on my bike. He’d had the whole thing laid out under the maple tree in his backyard. Of course, this time his herb garden was in its full glory. William Baffin roses climbed on the rail fence. Sun-flowers and daisie
s nodded in the hay-scented breeze.
Sebastian had put fresh mint spears in the iced tea and treated me to smoked salmon spread, cream cheese puffs, and a curried mushroom-filled pastry I could still taste melting on my tongue. He’d dressed for the occasion, too. A white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, and barefoot. Okay, so it wasn’t an Armani suit, but the gentleman farmer look suited him better. Then, after a pleasant hour of food and conversation, Sebastian informed me that it was only proper we have a cup of hot tea as well. I protested that it was too warm outside, but he insisted. Plus, he’d said, I could read his fortune in the tea leaves. Even though I said I didn’t do that kind of magic, I found myself staring at the dregs anyway. A ring was there at the bottom. Your future, he’d said, is with me.
Goddess, I love this man.
I looked over at Sebastian. His hair had come unbound and it hung loosely around his face in dark waves—sexy bed head—but he was frowning so hard creases appeared between his eyebrows. It wasn’t the expression I was expecting. I was about to ask him about it when he said: “I’m not getting on my knees for Lilith. No way.”
I gave a little wicked laugh. “Why not, darling? It could be fun. There are plenty of worshipful things you could do while you were down there.”
“Garnet!” Sebastian said.
I rolled my eyes at him, even though I wasn’t sure he could see me in the dark. “Are you seriously shocked, Sebastian? Aren’t you older than the Victorians?”
“Significantly,” he sniffed.
“Then get over yourself,” I teased. “In fact,” I added, jumping up to straddle him. “I think maybe you ought to practice. Lilith might demand all sorts of demeaning positions from you.”
He chuckled, low and hungrily.
I wasn’t going to get any sleep.
Yet at some point I must have nodded off because the insistent chirping of house sparrows woke me from a pleasantly wicked dream. Blearily, I glanced at the bird feeder that hung just inches from my bedroom window. I was fishing around on the floor for a slipper to toss at the screen to discourage the noisy birds when Barney came to my rescue. She lumbered along at top speed and threw herself so hard against the screen, I thought for a second she might tear through it and plunge to her doom one story below. The birds scattered. My cat sat down, dignified, as if she’d intended all along not to catch and eat one, and primly cleaned a paw.
Romancing the Dead Page 3
