A Vampire's Rise

by Vanessa Fewings

  “I’m admiring your collection,” I said. “Particularly enjoying this book here.” I held it up.

  “Vampire lore?” He entered cautiously.

  “It says here, and I quote, ‘The art of mind reading is common in the elite.’”

  He looked like he was considering leaving. “I find it intriguing that you’d come here.”

  “Stonehenge, what a way to go.”

  He glanced at the jimmied lock on the wall safe, its contents of papers now strewn over the desk.

  “The lock kind of gave.” I glanced back down at the book. “Captivating reading. Talking of secrets. ‘Stone Masters,’ which one of you came up with that?”

  “Excuse me?” He took a step closer.

  “Well, if I wanted to create a secret cult, I’d name it something a little more discreet.”

  “We’re not a cult.”

  “So, Stone Master, what does it feel like to drink the blood of a vampire?”

  “What makes you think that I’m the Stone Master?”

  I peered down at the book again. “The art of mind reading is common in the elite.”

  “So you consider yourself elite?”

  I smiled. “How does one become a Stone Master?”

  “One earns the title.”

  “Inherits it?”

  He shrugged.

  “What a lovely gift to bestow to a son,” I said. “I wonder, what does a Stone Master do when his wife bears him only daughters? Who inherits the title then? Which child has a lifetime of carnage to look forward to?”

  His right eye flickered. “How did you get past my dogs?”

  “I fed them.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I have something that you may find of interest.”

  He gave a half smile. “We don’t do business with your kind.”

  “Why ever not?”

  He glanced at the door. “Your name?”

  “Orpheus. And yours?”

  He closed his eyes, a split second shift.

  “It’s an honor to meet with you, Lord Archer,” I said. “So do tell, what gave me away?”

  “You’re pale. Your irises are enhanced in color. You move in a fashion that is, how does one say, elegant and . . .”

  “And?”

  “And you have the ability to seduce.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I have information that could prevent the end of the Stone Masters.”

  “You have to do better than that.” He smiled.

  Our gazes locked and he closed his mind.

  It was my turn to smile. “Impressive.”

  “Entering this house is a dangerous ploy. I hope you find it worth it.”

  “I’m not so different from you.”

  “How do you figure that?” Sweat settled on his upper lip.

  “Well, you seek out the innocent and murder them.”

  He approached the desk and gathered the papers.

  “Pretty interesting stuff.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “You had no right.”

  “I’ll note it for next time.”

  “Unless this material is read in context, it will make no sense,” he said.

  “I found it easy to follow. Grasped what you chaps are up to. Let me see how to sum up . . . Capture vampire, drain their blood, weaken them, and then off to Stonehenge to get your fix. Kill the vampire and—”

  “This is all conjecture.”

  I sucked on my forefinger and bit into it. His gaze followed the bloody trickle. In a flash, I leaned in and stroked my finger tip across his lips.

  He pushed my hand away. A flicker of his tongue was instinctively drawn to the scarlet drop. His eyes rolled and then closed, and he rested against the table. “That was impolite.”

  Flames in the fireplace flickered. Wood in the hearth crackled and sparked.

  He regained composure. “Was that,” he sighed, “your attempt to keep me in the room?”

  “It’s addictive, isn’t it? And as only the Master himself can drink it, only you know what it feels like. The older the vampire, the more potent the effect.”

  He loosened his shirt collar.

  “Want some more?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Sure?”

  He coughed. “How does your blood have that effect?” He reached back, his fingers fumbling and then finding the sharp letter opener.

  “Put it down or I’ll use it on you,” I said, calmly.

  He dropped it and it landed with a clang.

  I kicked it out of his reach. “See, our blood can be pretty persuasive.”

  “You had a family once, yes?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “You know what it is to love, to care for someone. When you murder, you kill someone’s loved one.”

  “You’re breaking my heart.”

  He glanced at the door. “How do you sleep at night, knowing that you’ve done the unthinkable?”

  “I sleep by day.”

  “Under this very roof, there are at least thirty Stone Lords. You’ll never leave this place alive.”

  “I’m already dead. Or is that undead?”

  He backed up. “One word from me and I’ll bring down hell upon thee.”

  “Nice.”

  “You seem unafraid.”

  “That’s because from where I’m standing, you and I will both benefit from my visit. Call in your hounds and you’ll never know what that thing is.”

  “Go on.”

  “In every man’s life, there comes a defining moment,” I said. “This is yours.”

  He glanced at the door. “Start talking.”

  I stared at him for the longest time. “Creda.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Their plot to wipe you out, it’s masterful.” I neared him.

  “What’s your agenda?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you benefit from giving me this information?” He turned away and went for the door.

  I shoved him backward over the desk and leaned against him, knocking items, flying papers scattering. “I’m not finished.”

  He glared at me.

  “Being this close to me,” I sighed dramatically, “it reminds you of that desire of yours.”

  He tried to push me off him.

  I pressed up against him. “Don’t you want more than a sip?”

  Something passed between us and we both felt a connection crackle, igniting an unexpected intimacy.

  I stepped back and Archer straightened his jacket, though it didn’t need it.

  “I don’t frighten you, do I?” I said.

  “I don’t frighten easily.”

  “You are a Stone Master.”

  “Please leave.”

  “And risk not knowing?” I replied. “And let’s be honest, now that you have me, I doubt you’ll let me go.”

  “Orpheus, such aggression is unnecessary.”

  “Mine or yours?”

  He regarded me with those idealistic eyes of his. “Despite evidence of your remaining humanity—”

  “Don’t demonize me.”

  “You’re a hunter.” He raised his eyebrows in a condescending fashion.

  “As are you.”

  “This back and forward, are you trying to find some kind of approval from me?”

  I folded my arms. “I don’t believe so.”

  “How did this happen to you?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “I’m trying to understand you, that’s all.”

  “That would be a first,” I said. “I hardly understand myself.”

  “Your father, was he a good man?”

  “Such questions, do you think the answers will make it easier to hunt me?”

  “I find myself alone in a room with a vampire. There’s no guideline on how one proceeds.”

  “My father was a good man. Was yours?”

  “Yes.”

  I ges
tured. “And yet he chose this life for you.”

  “I accepted my fate.”

  “Your father, did he show you affection?”

  “Why?”

  I smiled. “Just trying to understand you. That’s all.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “I take it that’s a no.”

  He gave a look of disapproval. “Assuming anything would be foolish at best.”

  “Is that the philosophy on which you base your life?”

  Archer glanced at the letter opener. “My life is not my own. I serve a greater purpose.”

  “But you hate this life, don’t you?”

  He softened and his thoughtful face reflected concern.

  “A reluctant Stone Master.” I folded my arms. “How’s that working for you?”

  Archer rubbed his eyes. “This conversation is over.”

  “You’re tired. You hate what you do.”

  “Mistakes have been made.”

  “What kind of mistakes?” I asked.

  “Please step back, give me some room.”

  “It’s the killing, isn’t it? You’ve been feeling this way for quite some time.”

  He shrugged. “What do you want me to say, that I enjoy the act of murder, even if it’s meant for the ultimate good?”

  “What path would you have chosen otherwise?”

  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, with you!”

  “I could always extract it.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “A priest, well that’s original.”

  He turned away. “That was rude.”

  “But it’s so easy to rummage around in there. Your thoughts are fascinating.”

  “You kill every night. How do you come to terms with murder?”

  “They die because I want to live.”

  “Has any part of the old you survived?”

  I leaned against the desk. “I think so.”

  “Which aspect?”

  “Well, I feel the same for the most part.”

  “Can you still experience love?”

  “Of course.”

  “What were you like as a mortal?”

  “Not half as dashing as I am now.”

  He almost smiled. “What does it feel like never to age?”

  “Untouched by the impact of time,” I said wistfully.

  “You find it romantic?”

  “It is what it is. Eternity has its privileges.”

  All fear had gone from him. “How old are you?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “It must seem that way.”

  “It does.”

  Silently, he invited me to read his mind.

  And I did. “You’re a man of philosophy?”

  “What does it feel like to change?”

  “So you’ve read the books but not actually spoken with any of your victims?”

  “By the time they get to me,” he said, “they’re not really up for a conversation.”

  “A part of you dies inside. But you still have a sense of the old you.”

  “Can you control it?”

  “Feeding?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’m not biting you, am I?”

  He squinted into a smile.

  “Not yet anyway.” I grinned.

  “Do you hunt alone or in packs?”

  “Alone,” I said. “Only your men hunt in packs.”

  “We must agree to disagree.”

  I smirked. “Our differences will bring us closer.”

  Archer chuckled.

  “I dare to believe that, although I’m different,” I said. “I’m no less deserving to share this world with you.”

  “Your species has evolved.”

  “It seems that it can go either way.”

  “Perhaps, but your kind has developed new skills.”

  “Tracking us has become harder?” I interrupted.

  “You could say that.”

  “That’s good.” I stared at the far shelves and wished that I had more time to read the books stacked along them.

  Archer followed my gaze. “What other gifts have you developed?”

  “Do you have to take a lover?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hoping that she’ll bear you a son?”

  “And you were doing so well. I was rather enjoying our conversation.”

  “No, you weren’t. But I do fascinate you.”

  “Perhaps we could come to some arrangement. You could teach me more.”

  “Visit again?”

  He nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “This closing your mind thing, you only seem to be able to keep it up for about one minute. Then, it’s full access.”

  “Ah.”

  “Your invite includes a trip to Salisbury.”

  He seemed concerned. “I’ve offended you.”

  “No more than most who’d like to slash my wrists and then burn me up.”

  “Now it’s me being rude.”

  I burst into laughter.

  Archer smiled. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “Really?”

  “You have a serene presence. I really am interested in learning more about you and—”

  We both froze. Someone lingered outside the door.

  “They’ll be wondering where I am,” he said.

  “The Creda have turned the tables.”

  “In what way?”

  “They have a secret rendezvous tomorrow night to discuss your downfall.”

  “Where?”

  I frowned. “Perhaps secret wasn’t the best word.”

  “What time?”

  “First, you must swear that you’ll not try to capture me.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “I offer you the elite vampires of London, where you can annihilate every last one, and you decline the offer?”

  “When something sounds too good to be true, it very often is.”

  “I hear the Creda’s plan includes the destruction of Stonehenge.”

  Despite his attempt to look disinterested, his voice broke. “Impossible.”

  “Apparently, in or around 2800 BC, the Welsh were hired to construct the monument.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “They plan to hire the Welsh to deconstruct it.”

  “What do you gain from betraying your own?”

  “I have the freedom to find a way back without interference.”

  “The way back from?”

  I gave a look of surprise. “This.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  I reached for his hand, prized it open, and slid a small object into his palm.

  He closed his fingers around it. “What is it?”

  “One more thing to document in your collection.”

  Archer opened his fingers and stared down at the small, black carved rook. “You play chess?”

  “The Creda have found a cure but refuse to share it.” Scrutinizing his thoughts, I confirmed he’d fallen for it.

  Archer’s brow furrowed deeper. “Where are they meeting?”

  Chapter 42

  THE CAVENDISH WAS EASILY one of London’s finest hotels.

  Overlooking the Thames, its views were awe inspiring, though when the wind blew in the wrong direction, the smell sucked all joy out of the vista. Inside the room were the finest of furnishings, the long, thick drapes suited our taste perfectly. Sunaria had procured one of their larger suites. The chestnut, four-poster bed was preferable to any casket, and revealed the soft linen sheets I’d become accustomed to. We paid the staff well to stay away.

  I awoke to see Sunaria huddled up in a corner chair, her legs tucked beneath her. I raised myself up onto my elbows. “Come back to bed.”

  “You have a death wish,” she said.

  I shrugged.

  “You were having nightmares.” She sighed.

  “Can’t imagine why.”

&nbs
p; “You ask me to share my secrets and then you keep yours from me.”

  I threw off the blankets and rested my legs over the side. My behavior had always been reckless, but last night, I’d outdone myself. In one of Archer’s books, the ritual at Stonehenge had been described in detail. They’d unwittingly gathered the ashes of all the vampires they’d slaughtered in one place.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Sunaria gave me an uneasy glance.

  “I was miles away.”

  “Where?”

  “I meant miles away in my head.”

  She rose and approached me. “Darling, we’ve agreed we mustn’t keep anything from each other anymore.”

  “You first.”

  Her fingers caressed my scalp and it felt good. She closed her mind to me. I pushed her away and reached for the clothes I’d thrown onto the floor that morning, and dressed.

  “Where are you going now?” she said.

  I pulled on my jacket.

  “You’re not going to St. Paul’s,” she continued. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I have to see it through.”

  “You went to that society’s house?”

  “I don’t think it’s their official base.”

  “And afterward, you visited Marcus.” She slid between me and the door. “What did you talk about?” She glared. “You’re not the only one who suffered. Delacroix trapped me in that awful coffin.”

  I nudged her. “Step aside.”

  “I know I should have told you everything. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

  “Then you insult me.”

  “Try to see my side of things.”

  “When you don’t let me in, I can’t.” I pulled away from her and strolled back over to the bed.

  “And why are you bringing Marcus into this?”

  “Sunaria, too many questions.”

  “You trust him. Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Get dressed.”

  “I’m not going with you.”

  “Meet me there.”

  “I refuse.”

  “I’m not asking you,” I snapped, “I’m telling you.”

  She grabbed my sleeve. “You don’t order me around like this.”

  I shoved her onto the bed.

  She tried to get up. “Why are you being like this?”

  I pushed her back down and held her there. “Because I don’t trust you.”

  “You can’t take the Creda on. As for Delacroix, we both know what he’s capable of.”

  “I’m going to right your wrongs.”

  She slapped me.

  My glare caused her to freeze. Unable to push me off, she turned her head away. I pressed my mouth against hers, kissing her leisurely, passionately.