by J. F. Lewis
“I’m tired of the 1301,” Phillip explained, “aren’t you?” He looked at the bottle and hurled it into the stove. “It said ‘Catherine’ on the label.” He shrugged. “I don’t even recall a…” Lit with inner mischief, Phillip’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh, yes, now I remember.” Looking back at the stove, he smiled. “Fitting end, I suppose.”
I nodded noncommittally and wondered what would happen when Phillip lost his fascination with someone. Would a guest be so quickly discarded? Would I? He flipped through a small ledger, his wine list, he called it, and I felt a sudden chill. Not seeing what he wanted, he dropped the wine list onto his chair and, laughing, clasped his hands together. That same impish light seemed to shine behind his eyes as he walked toward me. “Should we be naughty?” he asked.
“In what way?” Phillip scared me when he asked questions like that. His ceaseless good humor and his generosity were treacherous. With him, all of the terrible things seemed distant and avoidable. The past became fuzzy and unimportant, like a movie so bad you could only like it if you watched it with a friend. He muted everything else, overwhelming it with his own presence. For a short, bald, fat man, he managed the Dracula vibe effortlessly.
“We could play the game…No, no, we’ve no time for that now…I had almost forgotten.” He returned to his chair. “You were telling me about Eric, about feeling him burn. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I was on my way here. The car had broken down and I was walking down the sidewalk when I felt him…Eric…die. He burned. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“Fire, you say?” Phillip chuckled in a nasty sort of way. “Burning unto destruction? No. No. No, my dear.” He touched my hand. It was so reassuring, I wondered if I ought to sleep with him, you know, out of gratitude, which sounds twisted, but it’s how he was making me feel.
“But I felt him die.”
Phillip giggled. “Did you?” He stood up. “Well, then, I suppose you had best be on your way, hadn’t you?”
“On my way?”
“Back to the Demon Heart,” he explained. “That’s where I would start.”
“Start?” I asked in confusion.
He pulled me to my feet. “Start looking, my beautiful, wondrous, precious creature. Looking. If I know our good little maniac Roger, I assure you that he has no true understanding of the game in which he’s become entangled. Even if he does, I can without fear of error tell you that he does not know how to kill the one you love, your sire, the oft-enraged Eric of Void City.”
My heart beat twice in my chest. “Eric’s alive?”
“Insomuch as a vampire lives, yes, yes. Vivat imperator and so forth.” He danced in a circle as he talked, his excitement mirroring my sense of relief. I almost forgot how mad I’d been at Eric.
“That’s…I mean. Are you…Would you tell me how you know?”
“I was quite the mage in my day, you know—alchemical experiments, terrible firestorms, creating new life…It was all immeasurably childish, I assure you, but I remember it fondly,” Phillip said, sounding pleased with himself. “To see the modern magi of today still puttering about with the same problems I solved in my youth…” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah, well…dum spiro, spero, eh? Not that I do, of course, but the sentiment is the same. Surely they’ll learn their collective lessons in the end. We all do.”
“Huh?”
Phillip’s smiled broadened until I was afraid his face might tear at the corners. “Let’s call it wizard’s intuition. I know of Roger and I am aware of his methods. To burn a vampire in the vampire’s own lair is exactly the sort of melodrama that a neophyte like Roger would devise. If I know your sire as well as I ought to know him, I find it hard to believe that mere burning could destroy him for very long. Oh, I’m sure there’s something that would destroy him, there’s always something, but not fire, not even magical fire. I am an expert on killing other vampires, my dear, and death by burning is far too mundane for your sire.”
He scoffed. “You yourself would likely survive a mundane fire. All you would require is blood. Or time.”
“What about Eric?” I asked.
“Blood or time,” he repeated. “Either will do, but blood is much more expedient.”
The wall phone buzzed and Phillip answered it. It was Dennis, the current leader in Phillip’s personal game of Who Wants To Be a Vampire Millionaire.
“On the other matter, milord,” Dennis said warily. “I have done as you requested.” Vampires and their servants learn to be very circumspect on the phone. One of the benefits of enhanced vampire senses is that when a vampire can hear one side of the conversation, they can usually hear the other, too.
“Very good, Dennis,” Phillip replied. “I’ve one more favor to ask for the moment; do you have time?”
“I am always at your service, milord.”
“Round up one of those little sprayers—like the exterminators use. Clean it out and fill it with a few bottles of whatever I have…the 1250s if you want; I’m bored with the whole decade.”
He continued giving instructions and I continued to listen, but in the back of my mind something was bothering me. Phillip had said as well as I ought to know him when he referred to Eric, but the first time we’d met, he had acted as if he didn’t know who Eric was. Why had he done that? So he knew about Eric…But why the lie?
“Give it to Lady Tabitha when it is prepared and then drive her out to the Demon Heart, or, rather, the remains thereof,” he continued. “She needs to revive her sire and I want to be sure she doesn’t spend all night trying to figure out which pile of ashes is his.”
“Within the hour, milord,” Dennis replied.
“What if I don’t want to revive him?” I asked softly.
“Not revive him?” Phillip arched an eyebrow.
“If he’s going to be okay…I mean, if he’s not ‘dead’ dead…then I’m still mad at him.”
Phillip encircled my waist with his arm. “I knew you’d be interesting the instant I first sensed you.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “Why don’t you stay here at the Towers?”
5
TABITHA: LAP OF LUXURY
Talbot stopped by a week after Eric blew up. I’d wondered how long it would be before one of Eric’s little resurrection squad came to check on me. He was dressed, as always, in a smart black suit and a tie that matched the warm rich brown of his eyes. I wanted to reach out and run my hands along the dark skin of his cheek, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood.
“I haven’t seen you down at the Demon Heart,” he said, stepping through as I opened the door.
“Hello to you, too.” They were all on Eric’s side. The whole group of them, probably…all his former employees and friends running around, trying different spells, and spraying blood everywhere…It wasn’t working. I couldn’t bring myself to care why, yet even Phillip continued to ask about Eric.
Why did it matter how long it took him to re-form? He gets so much more waking time than the rest of us, me in particular. Eric is a corpse for a few hours a night, four at the most. Me, I’m dead from an hour before dawn until an hour after sunset. Let him feel what it’s like to know that people are running around enjoying immortality while he’s stuck, for a change. Even if he lost a whole year, it would serve him right.
I watched Talbot take in our surroundings. The Gryphon Suite had belonged to Roger, but Lord Phillip said that it now belonged to me. Nobody was going to argue with Void City’s vampire overlord even if Roger did manage to find his way back from Hell.
“I’ve redecorated since you were here last,” I said, gesturing at the room in general. “What do you think?”
Talbot’s eyes took in the decor with a casual flick from side to side. I was proud of it. I knew I wouldn’t miss a scrap of the extremely retro office furniture I’d had removed along with Roger’s late girlfriend Froggy’s awful choice of bedding, an obviously secondhand smoke-scented sofa, and all the rest of Roger’s stuff. A week
’s worth of shopping with Lord Phillip’s credit card had given the suite a little long-overdue pizzazz. Dennis promised that an interior designer was coming soon to redo the exterior waiting room. If I was going to be receiving guests, I couldn’t very well have them staring at Roger’s severe lack of decorating flair.
“I don’t think Eric’s going to like it,” he said brusquely, “but it’s very—you.”
“Why does everyone care what Eric thinks?” I slammed the door too hard and flinched when one of my decorative plates fell off the wall. Talbot caught it smoothly with his usual catlike reflexes and hung it back in place.
“I’m uncertain what you mean by everyone, but you have a vested interest in making sure that you’re on good terms with him if you plan on living in Void City.”
“And why is that?” I asked, crossing my arms under my breasts to better show my assets. Since I hadn’t been expecting company, I was only wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. Being undead meant that I no longer needed a bra for support. A vampire’s skin and muscles tighten after death, leaving us looking thinner and more toned than we did in life. As big as I am up top, it still does the trick, so for me bras are strictly a “for effect” clothing option. Talbot was normally immune to this type of flirting, but I knew I was an exception to the rule.
“Don’t flirt with me unless you mean it,” he snarled, eyes glowing green. I’d seen them go slit-pupil and feline, but I’d never seen them glow before. I took it as a sign that I still revved his engine. “Or you might find yourself engaged in the act against your will.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I told him. “Maybe I miss you.”
“Maybe.” He winked. “I think it more likely that you’ve found out firsthand what a freak Lord Phillip is between the sheets and you don’t like it. Has he tried to share you yet?”
“No,” I lied. I think Talbot could tell, though. I’d only slept with Phillip once and it had been a mistake. Sex with him was an exercise in the pain-pleasure threshold. He was always biting, pinching, or prodding things that didn’t need or want it. It worked out for both of us, because regardless of his deficiencies, he’s good with his tongue, but his suggestion for the next night had involved more partners than I was comfortable with. I mean, I’m not a fucking power strip! Since then I’d gone out with him a few times, but other than a little heavy petting, I’d cut him off.
Talbot closed the gap between us, taking up my personal space. “He will.”
“Stop,” I whispered.
He slipped his arms around me. “Or maybe corpulent little sadists are your thing?”
“What does ‘corpulent’ mean?”
His fingers slid over my butt, just below the butterfly tattoo, his claws catching slightly against the fabric of my shorts. He brushed my ear with his lips as he answered. “Fat.”
“Oh.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me to stop again?”
“No.” I pouted at him. “I need you; I want you. Take me now.” My delivery was less deadpan than I’d meant it to be, but he wilted anyway, pulling away from me.
“Fine. Now you are being a tease.” He sighed.
“We can do that in a minute,” I told him. His fangs came out in his smile when I said that. “First, you should tell me what you came here to tell me.”
He sat on the edge of my new daybed and fiddled with the lace coverlet. “I’ve gotten calls from three of Eric’s other children, all on the outs with him. They each called to see if they needed to come back and help.”
“So?”
He began taking off his tie. Talbot is built like a bull, all muscled and firm. He caught me watching and bared his fangs. He’s not a vampire and he’s not a lycanthrope, but I don’t know what he actually is. I do know that dominance games turn him on…and so do cats.
“He’s tried to kill all of them in the past, but they know how this works. Even though they escaped him and even though they’d rather do anything than come to his aid, they know that if he gets pissed about their not helping, then when he does re-form he might take out his frustrations on them.”
“Oh, please, what’s he going to do? Kill me?”
“Probably not.” Talbot strung the tie on the side of the daybed. “But he might take this away from you.”
“This? What do you mean?”
“This place. It’s yours, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, as your sire, it is also his. Anything you have is his if he wants to claim it. Technically, so are you.”
He slid off his jacket and hung it on the bed knob.
“I am not!” I shouted.
“Technically, you are.” He unbuttoned the first button on his dress shirt. I wasn’t paying much attention, so he stopped. “What?”
“I’m not property.”
“You are until you become strong enough to prove you’re not.”
“Phillip could protect me.” I tried to bite it back, but the response was out and there was nothing I could do but stick with it.
“I’m sure he could,” Talbot laughed, “and if One Hundred and Twenty Days of Sodom is your idea of a good time, then go right ahead.”
“One hundred and twenty days of Saddam?” I asked.
“It’s a book by the Marquis de Sade; you wouldn’t like it. Your horizons are broad, but not that broad.”
“You don’t know me.” I looked away.
“Have you ever met Lady Gabriella?” He ran one claw along the bedsheets.
“I’ve sensed her. She’s got a really cute thrall named Esteban…and I know she doesn’t get along with Phillip very well.”
“Do you know why?” Talbot asked. “Phillip seduced her while she was still a virgin, but not before he turned her.”
“So you mean?”
“For her, every time is like the first time.” Talbot picked up his jacket and slid it back on.
“That’s sick.” I winced thinking about it. I thought back to Esteban’s manicured nails and the tender way he’d wiped the blood from my skin. No wonder he’s so gentle with vampires. “Why would Phillip do that?”
Talbot smiled, showing too much of his teeth. “According to Esteban, Phillip told Gabriella that it would make her his eternal love, always fresh, always new, his immortal virgin, but really, he did it because he was curious and because he knew that in time it would deepen her hatred of him.”
“You’re lying.” He went to put his tie back on, but I stopped him with a touch.
“What?” he asked. “That turned you on?”
“No.” I ran my hands across his shoulders, dug into him with my claws. “You turned me on. The story just made me not want to be alone.”
6
TABITHA: THE CAT CAME BACK
I deserved a night on the town. I’d been cooped up in the Highland Towers for over a week. Talbot had kept me from being too lonely, but he wasn’t around every night. When he did show up, I’d smell the smoke and ash of the Demon Heart clinging to his skin. Tonight, I was dressed up and waiting for him.
He opened the door and stopped, his eyes raking my body. I’d broken out my little black dress, a tight slinky number with a plunging back that showed off the butterfly tattoo at the base of my spine. The front of the dress showed ample cleavage and if I shifted wrong (or right depending on your point of view), I knew he’d catch a flash of nipple. I’d cut my hair short and the new look surprised him. I waved a pair of six-inch heels at him.
“You’re taking me out.” I bent over, slipping on first one shoe, then the other, and his eyes stayed right where I wanted them.
“Tabitha,” he started.
“If you want me, then we’re going out.” I slid my hand along his crotch and felt the rigid warmth of him.
Talbot bowed his head, giving in. Easier than I thought.
“I don’t mind taking you out,” Talbot said. He stepped closer, cupping my ass with his free hand. His musky wild scent, not quite human, not quite animal, filled my nostrils as he b
rushed his lips along my neck. “But it’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a mouser, and though the High Society vamps tolerate my kind, they are never pleased to see us mingle with vampires.” His tongue darted along my jawline in a delicate lick, not wet and slobbery like a human tongue, but rough, warm, and grasping. I wanted to feel that touch lower down. My free hand found the back of his head and I pushed him lower without thinking or meaning to and he laughed—the low chuff of a predator.
“And to think you get mad if I do that.” Talbot slid a claw across my back, not breaking the skin, tantalizing me. A slight scratch from Talbot would send curls of smoke wafting up from my skin. Done right, it felt erotic, more pleasure than pain, and Talbot always did it right.
“Let me taste you,” I said, fangs extended. “Just a little bit.”
“No.” He shoved me away from him, one hand on my abdomen, and I stumbled, catching myself with the door.
“Why?”
“My blood isn’t good for vampires.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve told you before. My claws and fangs are sacred weapons.” I rolled my eyes as he spoke. “It’s true,” he said, showing me his claws. “If I scratched you with these, really scratched you, not sensuous scratches, the wounds would burn. And my blood? The mingled essence of deities flows through my veins. If you took my blood internally…?” He clucked his tongue.
“Ouch?” I wrinkled my nose at him.
“Ouch,” he agreed.
“You’re so full of yourself.” I hit him playfully in the shoulder. He bit back a comment, but I saw it in his eyes. I didn’t know exactly what he’d been going to say, but it had been vulgar and very male. “You better be glad you left that unsaid.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere I’ve never been…someplace high class with dinner and dancing.”
“I know a place.”
“A vampire place?”
“No,” Talbot admitted.
“Then let’s ask the concierge.”
We took the elevator down to the lobby and I spotted Dennis by the front desk talking with Esteban. Dennis wore a standard suit and tie, while Esteban wore a tailored gray suit, open collared as it had been when I first met him. The shoulder holster was barely noticeable.
