Valeria put her hand over her mouth to stifle her protest.
“I see her, you know,” he whispered, his voice falling. “On moonlit nights. I see her between the trees. Or walking across the face of the lake. She shines, Valeria. She looks at me and smiles.”
She slipped her arm around his neck and held him, her face tucked in the angle of neck and shoulder, as he stroked her hair.
“I just wish I could sleep,” he whispered. “I haven’t slept in years, not properly. I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not even for an hour. I would give almost anything to sleep.”
Valeria lifted her lips to his. “Sleep now,” said she. “I’ll sit watch, Thoas. I’ll wake you if anyone comes.”
“Valeria …”
“I promise.”
He looked her in the face a long moment, then kissed her. Softly. Hesitantly. “Anyone at all,” he mumbled, and then laid himself down, pillowing his head in her lap. She shifted her position slightly to make herself comfortable, and laid her hand on his head. Her eyes scanned the empty shoreline. It was a warm summer’s evening. Soon the sun would set and later the moon would rise, silvering the lake. This mountain hollow, this grove—it was a world to itself, and the one outside seemed unimaginably far away.
Thoas was asleep in seconds; she felt the tension drain from him and his bones grow heavy. Softly she stroked his hair, listening to the slow wash of his breath, and as he slept she held him safe, and watched.
The Last Thing She Needs
Shanna just hasn’t been the same since we got her back from Appentak’s clutches. Since I wrapped her up in the red satin bed-sheet and led her gently out from her prison, my arm about her shoulders, into the room where all the others waited around his open sarcophagus. She moved with tiny little steps that day, nothing like her normal confident stride, and I could feel her leaning against me for support. But when we reached Appentak’s coffin and looked in, she shrugged off my arm and made sure to stand on her own two feet.
Everyone was staring at her, and no one knew what to say. I could see the hot relief and shame in the team’s eyes. Desperate joy that she was still alive, but no words to express it without compounding our collective guilt. We’d found and freed her at last—but she’d been in the vampire’s clutches for nearly two weeks. In her pale face and in the bite marks on her neck, we could all see the toll it had taken,
But I was the one who’d gone ahead into the bedchamber to release her from her chains. Who’d seen some of the other scars now hidden beneath the red sheet. I was the only one with a real guess at what her survival had cost her.
I took an ash stake from the holster at my hip and offered it to her. “You do it,” I said.
She looked at the stake like she’d forgotten what it was for. Then down at the body in the stone coffin. Appentak lay with eyes shut. Out there beyond the brick warehouse walls it was mid-afternoon and that meant he couldn’t move a muscle, but I was pretty sure he had some awareness of his surroundings, and if there’s any justice in the world he would have been panicking inwardly at his helpless state. Certainly he’d have heard the gunfire as we took out his human servants. He might even have heard the screams as Rhiannon staked the two lesser vampires—both female, both no older than schoolgirls.
Fucking pervert.
That could have been Shanna, I’d thought as Rhiannon hammered the stakes between the girls” breasts. It really might have been. I wonder if she would’ve had the will to do if it if had been Shanna, if we’d arrived that bit too late.
“Shanna?”
She nodded. She only had one arm free of her bed-sheet, clutching it in place. “You hold it,” she said, meaning the stake. “Give me the mallet.” Her voice was hoarse and wispy, as if she’d spent long hours screaming.
I doubted inwardly that she’d have the strength left to drive the wooden point through bone and cartilage, but I didn’t want to argue. My eyes found Rhiannon’s in mute appeal—and she understood, thank God, stepping forward to help. She was flecked with blood-spatter from head to toe, but her hands were gentle as she took charge of Shanna’s precarious sheet and tucked it in, holding in place.
“It’s okay, Shanna,” she murmured.
Shanna, who had never once in two years asked for Rhiannon’s reassurance, didn’t seem to hear her. But she held out her hand to me for the mallet.
I pulled open the vampire’s ruffled shirt to make it easier for her, and aligned the splintery point where the furrow between two ribs met the sternum. The bastard affected a sort of retro Edwardian look in his clothes—I should have guessed from the red satin sheets that he had no taste whatsoever—and the skin beneath was gray as a corpse’s. Which was what he was, after all. Aside from that he was kind of handsome, I guess, in a gaunt and elderly way. Wavy silver hair.
I hated the fancy-looking fucker with a passion I thought I’d lost long ago.
Shanna hefted the wooden mallet. I hoped she had the strength to strike accurately, and not hit my hand. I watched as she bit her lip, seeming to hesitate.
Then Appentak’s eyes opened.
He looked straight up at her.
I’d never seen a vampire with that much strength of will. They’re usually inert during the daytime: just so much cold meat. His eyes were black, of course, without iris or sclera, but they seemed to look straight into Shanna’s soul. I heard the intake of her breath.
Then she slammed the mallet down on the stake. It took four blows, each harder than the one before, to drive it through his unbeating heart. He spasmed and shook and screamed, but she didn’t stop until he went still.
Cory came in then with the needles and drew off Appentak’s blood into vials, just as usual. It’s how we fund our project. Vampire blood is changing the face of medicine: not just kicking the ass of pathogens but with regenerative powers on top. They’ve used it to cure HIV and they’re even talking about it being the answer to Alzheimer’s soon. Well at least those parasites have made some contribution to the world, now … though it hardly makes up for the rest.
I cut off Appentak’s head when it was done, and the corpse crumbled to wet ash.
Shanna hasn’t been right, though, since that day.
We can’t blame her—and not one of us would have criticized if she’d given the whole thing up then and there. We can only guess at what she’s been through at Appentak’s hands. But she’s never voiced any desire to quit. Just the opposite in fact; she was out on a mission pretty much the minute she got her strength back, her face set like stone. She works out in the gym for hours each day, and she’s first up and last to her bunk. I don’t think she goes home to her apartment much anymore, just stays at Base.
But she’s stopped talking. I used to like her sarcastic wit and her sassy spirit. She was always the one who could stop Lee dead with a barbed phrase when he went off on one of his look-at-me-I’m-such-a-badass-mutherfucka-you-all-just-watch-me-save-your-asses-again boasts. She never lost heart even when the odds looked impossible. And she never took any shit from Rhiannon, who was so determined to be queen bee in the team. Or from any of the guys trying to get into her pants.
I’m not included in that set. I never tried to get into her pants. Not that I didn’t think about it, sure. But that’s not what I do.
There’s a time and a place for everything.
Well, everything natural.
Nowadays, it’s like the light’s gone out in her eyes. Or maybe just sunk to a tiny hot point like the tip of a soldering iron. We seldom hear her talk. Maybe me least of all—she avoids meeting my gaze, even, her eyes steely-set on some distant horizon. She goes out on hunts like it’s the only thing she lives for, and she takes stupid, reckless risks, she’s so determined to get the vampires. Because she’s lost her own fear, that makes me scared for her. She acts like she’s bulletproof, and that just ain’t the case.
Nobody dares call
her out. How can we judge? We’ve all got our own ways of dealing with the stress and the crazy. Lee has his back-to-back action movies and his crappy boasting. Rhiannon does pills, I know for a fact. Cory has his shamanic meditation shit. Pretty much everyone drinks.
Me? I choose to fuck my way to mental health. Down to the bars and the clubs; a different girl every night. I rarely have a problem finding someone new. The others used to laugh at me, enviously, but nowadays they’re thinking it’s a bit too much, a bit weird. “You’re so goddamn grim about it,” Lee told me once, after a night out. “Isn’t sex supposed to be fun?”
Maybe they’re right. Maybe it is weird. I know what I’m looking for, and I know I won’t find it there.
At least, I hope to God I never do.
But this isn’t about me, it’s about Shanna. She’s on the edge. We all know this, and we’re all starting to exchange alarmed looks when she kicks off and does something rash. But who’s going to talk to her? Who’s going to say “You need a break; you need to let it go?”
Rhiannon nearly lost her cool last week when Shanna shot a vampire’s prisoner—not fatally, thank fuck. “This has to end,” she swore. “I’m gonna tear her a new one.”
I was the one who stopped her: “Leave her alone, Rhiannon. She’s had enough shit to deal with, without you dropping more on her.” There was an argument, but I stood firm. Because how do you let it go when you’ve been through what Shanna’s been through? I’d seen …
I’d seen stuff in that vampire’s bedroom I’ve told none of the others about.
It still keeps me awake at night.
So tonight, when it’s been quiet for a week and everyone’s taking time off and going home to get some proper sleep and some alone-time, or dropping in on their mothers or girlfriends or whatever it is that normal people do, Shanna is still at Base. I’ve just called in to do some washing, and I find the place all but deserted. Just her and her laptop and her gun, in the vaulted, windowless bunkhouse. She looks up at me and nods without smiling. The computer lights her face from below, making her look as pale and shadowed as, well … a vampire.
“Kev.”
“Everything good?” I ask. I make sure not to crowd her, not to face her straight on. Keep it casual.
“Quiet.”
“That is good,” I remind her, because she sounds peeved. “Looks like we might be getting on top of this thing.”
“Yeah. I suppose.” She pouts her lips, oblivious to the effect that has. “I was just going to take a shower.” She’s been working out again: I can see the sheen of sweat on her skin. It looks like it needs licking off. Someone else—Lee perhaps—might take her words as an invitation to make a pass. I don’t.
After what she’s been through, the last thing Shanna needs is some big dreadlocked guy in biker leathers pushing into her personal space.
“Well, I’m doing my laundry,” I say, hefting my rucksack. The machine here is industrial-size: one of the perks of the job. “Don’t let me interrupt your fun.”
She eyes me coolly but says nothing, so I go off to load powder and fabric softener like a good boy.
When I wander back, she’s in the shower cubicle and her laptop is still open on the table. I glance down at it with idle curiosity, and in one line I can feel hot and cold water running all over me.
She’s logged into a chatroom, and she’s talking to a guy. It’s real ugly.
SHAZ103: When I get to the park youll be waiting in the bushes near the gate, watching for me. I wont see you but Ill feel someone looking and itll make me walk faster, feeling nervous. You wait til Im somewhere really lonely before you make your move. Grab me from the shadows. Ill struggle but youll be too strong. Youll take me into the dark off the path and when I beg you not to hurt me youll hit me to shut me up and then youll pull off my clothes and fuck me slow and hard.
UZI2000: Hell yeh baby Im going to fuck you good you dirtybitch youneed it youwant it bad Im going tomake you scream it hurts so good ,,, Im so hard now justthinking about mydick going into you raping you andyou trying to scream but my handon yor mouth stops anybidy hearing the noiseiwant to cum onyour tits and face and up yor ass and make you suckit shit and blood after,,, tonight you dirty bitch 10pm behind the burger concesion you get yours tonigth.
SHAZ103: Tonight 10PM
Jesus.
Jesus H. Christ, what am I supposed to do? What the hell is she thinking of?
And my second thought is Why did she leave her laptop up and running? Was it deliberate? Did she want me to see?
When Shanna comes out of the shower, toweling her hair, I’m sitting across the table from the laptop so I can’t look at the screen. She’s wearing cycle shorts and a lycra sports top, both black. My heart is going like a trip-hammer; I’m more scared and angry than I ever am on a raid.
“Shanna.” My voice is loud and heavy—louder and heavier than I’d intended. I point at the laptop. “What the fuck?”
She stops in her tracks, open-mouthed. “What?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with that Uzi piece of shit?”
“You’ve been looking at my PC?” The towel falls to the floor. Her eyes are very wide.
“Screw that, Shanna. What are you up to?”
“How dare you!”
“FUCK THAT!” I roar, slamming my hand down on the table so hard the laptop bounces. I’m so freaked out I don’t know what else to do with my distress. I see Shanna take a step back, eyes narrowing, and before I know it I’m on my feet. But I don’t move toward her. I don’t want to scare her.
I don’t want …
“Talk to me, Shanna,” I say through gritted teeth, dropping my voice to a low pitch. “Tell me what you’re doing. Is this some sort of sting operation you’re trying to set up?”
She shakes her head.
“Then it’s for real? You’re arranging to meet that guy tonight?”
She bares her teeth.
“Jesus Christ, Shanna.” I want to tell her she’s a stupid stupid stupid woman, but I’ve got enough sense not to let the words past my lips. “What the hell are you thinking of? Are you trying to get yourself killed!”
“He’s in Baltimore.” She practically spits the words.
“What?”
“Baltimore. That’s where the park is. I looked it up on Google Earth. I’m not going to get to goddamn Baltimore in the next hour, am I? Like, it’s not actually possible, Kev!”
That throws me. “So this is … what? A game?”
“Yeah. A fantasy.”
“A fantasy where you get beaten up and raped?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“Jesus, Shanna. This is … bad shit.”
“Screw you. I don’t interfere in your ho love-life.”
“It’s not safe, Shanna! You’re meeting these creep strangers on the internet and winding them up with promises … How do you know they won’t try and find you? How do you know this prick really is in Baltimore, and not down the road? You’re not the only one who lies on the Net!”
“Shut up!” She runs her fingers through her wet hair. “I’ll deal with it! It’s not your concern.”
“You could get hurt—really hurt—and that is my concern!”
“What if I want to get hurt? Hey? What if that’s what I want?”
Her shout rings around the bunkhouse, and the echoes fall into silence. I can see her trembling now, and blinking as she tries to force back the hot tears—and I’m nearly as shocked by that as by the fucked-up online conversation. My instinct is to reach out and hold her and make her safe. Not that I dare show it. Forcing my fists to unclench, I speak as gently as possible.
“Why? Why would you want that? Is it … shit, is it the Appentak thing?”
She throws back her head. “Say it; go on—why don’t you. Tell me I’m crazy.”
You’re crazy. Appentak has damaged you but bad. “You’re not crazy. But I’m thinking PTSD right now.”
She’s pale as milk.
“I saw …” I continue, uncertainly. “I saw … what he’d done to you.” Oh Christ, I’d seen. The red satin, the black leather, the silver chains. The silvery flare between her beautiful …
I shouldn’t have seen those things.
“Did you tell anyone?” she demands. “Any of the others?”
“No. Hell, no.” Is this why she’s been avoiding me?
Her lip quivers.
“Shanna, believe me. I’ve said nothing.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “It was Appentak.” She stalks over to her laptop and snaps it shut, dousing its light. “But not him.” Her voice is shaking. “All my life. All my life, these thoughts. Being whipped. Being held down. Being made to do things I didn’t want.”
I try to swallow. Shanna is one of the least submissive women I’ve ever met. Brave and self-assured and independent. Contemptuous of jerks who think they’re any better than her—and rightly so. Sexy, but uninterested in sexual relationships. Or so it had seemed, anyway.
Maybe there’s been a lot she wasn’t telling us.
Maybe we all have things to hide.
“Do you know what Appentak did to me?” Her eyes are cold and hot, all at the same time, as she turns them scathingly upon me. “As soon as he had me back there, he bit me. You know what that does to you?”
I nod, reluctantly. The vampire bite is analgesic, psychotropic and causes addiction in 30% of victims. Those who’ve reported back describe it as an aphrodisiac of the highest order. It makes you horny, and it takes away all your inhibitions. It also gives you inhuman stamina: when I’d found Shanna in chains she must have been there for hours. Appentak would have retired to his coffin at dawn. If it hadn’t been for the bite-marks all over her body, she would have been in agonies of cramp.
Fierce Enchantments Page 7
