Broken Heart Town 2 - Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire

by Michele Bardsley

"Yes, that's very likely. But why would he give you the taint?"

  "He wants to destroy the one person who could stop his evil plans involving vamp lycans." The mystery bad guy was also cruel. Why give me a debilitating disease that would kill me slowly when removing my head would accomplish the same end?

  "Lor, I drank from Jess yesterday. Is she… you know… okay?"

  "She doesn't have the taint."

  Thank God. I inhaled through my nose and out through my mouth. When I was human, deep breathing often helped me to destress and clear my mind. It didn't help this time. Breathing, deeply or otherwise, just felt weird.

  "God! Why me? Why?"

  Lor seemed to understand that I didn't need him to respond. I ranted and raved for a few minutes more, not even able to make sense of my own words. But my emotions I understood.

  I didn't want to die. Not again.

  "I was looking forward to immortality," I said, pressing my palms against my aching eyes. "I was finally getting used to a nighttime schedule, too."

  "Eva, don't."

  I heard the quake in his voice and my hands dropped heavily to the bed. I looked at him. "Don't what?"

  "Don't be brave. Don't be funny. Or understanding. Or kind."

  His silver eyes gleamed with emotions I couldn't define. His jaw clenched and his lips pressed together. Oh. I got it then. He wanted me to be furious. He wanted me to punish him with my rage. His guilt demanded it. I thought of him like a moth—attracted to the light, only to be harmed by its beauty, its heat. Did he want to be around me, only to be so eaten up by remorse and sorrow that he couldn't stand to be near me?

  So what it boiled down to was that Lor felt responsible. If he hadn't drained me and left me to die, then I wouldn't have the taint. I would be alive. I would be human. I was sure he had similar thoughts about all the Turn-bloods. Maybe their lives would be different, would be better, if not for him. As long as he held that belief about himself and others, there would never be any healing—not for Lor, and not for the rest of us.

  "How long are you going to flay yourself for acts over which you had no control?"

  His mouth dropped open. "What?"

  "You were turned into a mindless, starved beast. You did what most mindless, starved beasts do—you tracked down food and you noshed. If you'd been in your right mind, you wouldn't have done it."

  "It's not that simple."

  "Yes, it is." I grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him close. "Forgive yourself."

  "Eva, I can't just—"

  I yanked him closer and he let me do it.

  "Have you tried?" I asked.

  He shook his head, looking bemused. I knew he was stronger and faster, but I didn't care. My immortal life was going to end. There was no more time for planning or worrying or contemplating. Before I passed on, I would help Lor through his razor-blade forest—whether he wanted me to or not.

  He looked at me uncertainly, his lips twitching. Amusement flashed in his eyes, but was soon lost in the serious monk's expression he'd probably spent centuries perfecting.

  "You're stubborn," I pronounced. Then I mashed my lips to his.

  I kissed him desperately until I realized I probably shouldn't be kissing anyone. I let go. "The taint—I'm sorry."

  "I can't get it again. My DNA was essentially changed by the radical cure. If the taint, in any form, gets into my bloodstream, my mutated antibodies will kill it."

  "Okay then." I threw my arms around his neck and dipped my tongue inside his mouth. His arms went around me and he drew me from the bed, holding me against him as his tongue danced with mine. I would bind with you, Lor. I really would.

  "Eva," he murmured. "My darling Eva. Our binding would be lovely."

  I realized he had responded to my thoughts. I pulled away, just a little, and asked, "Why can you hear what I'm thinking?"

  I wished immediately that I hadn't asked. He gently put me on the bed and tucked me back under the sheet. He straightened his clothes, but he couldn't fix the tousled look of his hair or hide his swollen lips. When he stepped away from the bed, away from me, I felt the loss keenly. Obviously, I had shaken him… but he had shaken me, too. To the core. I still felt internal earthquakes.

  "I will not let you die," he said. "I owe you that much." I heard the grief and recrimination in his words. I wanted to hug him and punch him.

  "I'm not a debt," I said, sighing. My hunger reasserted itself and I rubbed my tummy. The only thing I wanted more than food was… Lorcan.

  "I will bring you sustenance."

  Apparently only one of my hungers would be assuaged. I plucked at the thin sheet covering my body and wished mightily that I had the gumption to jump Lor's bones. Although I would never bind to him now, I would miss the opportunity to try a little hanky-panky.

  A hungry vampire knows no shame. When Lor brought me the Great Dane, I managed only a token protest. The dog leapt onto my bed and lay down next to me. His fur was dark brown with splotches of black. Lor had shaved a spot on the dog's neck, which made it easier to sink my fangs into his skin.

  I didn't poke at his mind until I had finished drinking. He seemed content to be a vampire snack. Like those of most dogs, his thoughts and feelings were simple. He liked how I smelled and he wanted a nap. And he really wanted a ham bone.

  "His blood tastes different." I didn't want to say "awful," because doing so would not only dishonor Lor's attempts to help me but would also insult the dog.

  "It's not ideal," said Lor. "Animal blood will not sustain you indefinitely. You need circulating human blood to maintain your health."

  "And how am I supposed to get that?"

  "We're testing donors. It is possible, though very unlikely, that a new strain of the taint can be carried by humans and we don't want you to infect innocents. If that turns out to be the case, we will have to rethink our food supply. Stan's been working on a way to create synthetic blood, but truthfully, he hasn't come up with a version that's been a long-term successful substitute."

  "You're full of good news," I said. "And is this dog kept for feeding purposes? Or experimentation?"

  "No. He's a stray. Don't tell Jessica, but I give him scraps. Sometimes he goes on walks with me."

  The idea that he'd found a pet was endearing to me. I hadn't imagined Lor hanging out with a big ol' dog. "What's his name?"

  "I call him Bert."

  It was such an un-dog-like name that I smiled. Lor smiled back. "I meant to ask if anyone was feeding the animals while I'm gone."

  "They don't come when you're not there," replied Lorcan. "I'll bring you some books from the library, okay?"

  "Why can't I go with you? That way I can choose what I like."

  With Lor's encouragement, the dog leapt off my bed and padded to the door. "I'm sorry, Eva. You cannot leave this room. We can't risk it. You could infect other vampires."

  "But not dogs?"

  "Very unlikely."

  "You don't know when I'll go loopy, do you?"

  "No. The taint affects each vampire differently, but being a young Turn-blood… It may work faster on you than on a vampire centuries older."

  "Then I definitely don't want Tamara in here."

  "You're incapable of harming those you love. Haven't you claimed her? Put her under your protection?"

  "Of course." I shook my head. "I can't risk it, Lor. Not even for a second would I put that child in jeopardy."

  "If that is your wish."

  Oh, he had no idea what kind of wishes I had. Contemplating the end of your existence made you long for every book you hadn't read, every boy you hadn't kissed, every person you hadn't apologized to, and every trip you hadn't taken.

  He opened the door and Bert sauntered through it first. Lor gave me one last smile and then the heavy metal clanked shut behind him.

  I was left in my prison with only my thoughts… and my fears.

  Chapter 18

  As the days passed, I felt more and more lethargic. Despite Stan's best efforts, he w
as unable to create a suitable synthetic blood or to discount donors as possible taint carriers. As much as I adored Bert, his blood was not nourishing. I felt as though I was a puzzle with a piece or two taken out of the whole every day. Soon there would be no pieces left.

  Lor brought me books. When I grew too tired to read, he read stories to me. His voice was beautiful and he really brought on the Irish to entertain me. He would've made a fine actor, but I knew his performances were for an audience of only one—for me. He never missed a visit and he stayed for hours, amusing me with anecdotes or showing me bits of his writing to ask my opinion. Sometimes he just held my hand as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

  We didn't soul-kiss or speak about binding. As much as I would've loved to play smoochy-face with Lor, it wasn't fair to act on our feelings.

  I missed Tamara dreadfully, though she sent notes and bad jokes and funny drawings to me several times a day. Then Lor brought me a video-camera phone so I could see her face as I talked to her using the speaker function. Though I could tell she was worried about me, she still had that spark in her eye—and I attributed it to the flush of first love. Oh, I wanted the world for my baby. I hoped that for however long they had together, Durriken and Tamara would be happy. Well, that's how I wanted to feel. Mostly, I worried about my teenage daughter being so near a teenage boy. My only comfort was that Helene had become a vigilant chaperone, much to the kids' chagrin.

  I tried to be brave and to emulate my mother, who carried the burden of her illness fully. She didn't want us to be weighed down with her pain or her worries. Only now did I comprehend how much suffering and how much fear she had kept from us. Or maybe Mom hadn't been afraid of her illness or of dying.

  But I was.

  One evening, after Bert had fulfilled his meal-ticket duty and lay contentedly next to me, Lor revealed a spectacular surprise: a thick leather-bound volume. When he opened it, I nearly went into bibliophile orgasm. The pages were like those of medieval manuscripts—handwritten meticulously in a beautiful script. Each gilded page was painted with gorgeous flowers, mythical creatures, and other fantastic images.

  "Some of my original works, before computers," said Lorcan.

  "Better than Microsoft Word," I murmured as I drew my finger along the thick parchment. "What language is it?"

  "Magic," he said. He whispered in Gaelic. Then handwriting glimmered gold and suddenly I could read the pages.

  "That is the coolest!" I read the title at the top of the page: " 'Legends of the Ancients, Ruadan the First.' "

  "All the stories of the six vampires are in here," he said.

  "I thought there were seven Ancients."

  "There are. When the first council convened more than four thousand years ago, my father and the six vampires he made created the rules and the binding magic to keep their children, born and made, in line. Every hundred years, the council meets to revise the policies and procedures, hear grievances, render judgments, issue edicts, and so forth."

  "What do vampires with grievances do between council meetings? A hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge, even for a vampire."

  Lorcan chuckled. "Each Ancient handles a certain section of the world. Vampires must go to their Family headquarters with their problems. If a problem makes it all the way to the hundred-year meeting, it's like a case going before the Supreme Court."

  "That makes sense." Even though I knew it wasn't close to sunrise, I still felt really tired. Bert whined, lifted his head, and licked my hand. I petted him and he snuffled, then returned to his nap. "But what happened to the seventh Ancient?"

  "Three thousand years ago, he went to ground. The Ancients issued what amounted to a memo saying that Amahté had chosen to rest and when the time was right, he would return to the world. In his place stepped his blood-son, Khenti, who was turned vampire like me and Padraig."

  "Didn't your dad tell you why Amahté really went to ground? Or maybe he's dead."

  "We know that he's not. We have no idea what would happen if an Ancient was killed, Eva. Each Family is interconnected with their abilities and their magic. If the originator passed from this realm, it might be the end of the entire Family."

  "Not good," I said. My thoughts drifted like the gel bubbles in a lava lamp: slow and wobbly, bumping into each other and getting stuck. "Amahté is in the Sudan. That's the hubbub there, right?"

  "We're trying to find his temple," admitted Lorcan. "Though we seemed to have stumbled on a site dedicated to Seth—the Egyptian god of chaos. We believe Amahté might've been the first to get the taint and may have created the cure. But our efforts are slow going. The dig has suffered continual setbacks, not the least of which are sabotage and murder."

  "The Ancients probably don't like the idea that you're poking around."

  "We have Khenti's permission, so there's not much the council can do." He sounded so defiant, I smiled.

  "So, you got the stories of six of the first vampires. That must've been interesting research."

  "I interviewed them all and bugged them incessantly until I was sure I got everything right. Still, I wonder if choosing a fairy-tale format was the way to tell the stories."

  Lorcan suffering from a writer's insecurities struck me as silly. Here was a man whose career spanned four millennia. I'm sure he'd had all the time he needed to perfect his craft.

  "Read it to me," I asked.

  He sat in the wingback, put the tome on his lap, and said, " 'Once there was a great warrior-magician whose name was Ruadan. To know a man, you must know his story, and all the stories of men begin with their mothers…' "

  On the story went: Bres, an immortal king who wanted to win back Eire—even to the detriment of his sons. His wife, Brigid, an immortal queen who wanted nothing more than peace for her people and for her family to be safe. But Bres lost the war and Brigid lost her sons. All but one…

  " 'Morrigu heard the keening of her daughter, so she turned into a crow and flew to the land of the Fomhoire. Though the dark queen craved chaos over tranquillity and war over peace, she felt pity for her daughter and offered one chance for Brigid to regain her son.

  " 'Give Ruadan a cup of my blood, but be warned! When he awakes, he will not live as a man, but as a deamhan fola. He will never again walk in the light. He will not consume food or drink, but shall siphon the blood of the living. Neither will he have breath nor beat of heart. Never will he sire another child by his own seed.' "

  In desperation, Brigid agreed to the terms of the spell—or curse, depending on your point of view. That night Morrigu turned her grandson into the first vampire. Ruadan awoke and returned to his family, but his wife went mad. Rather than be married to a monster and allow her sons to be raised by him, she planned to kill herself and their twin sons, Patrick and Lorcan.

  Ruadan stopped her and convinced her to go to Eire with Brigid. For twenty-five years, he wandered the earth, making six more master vampires, before the need to see his sons overcame him. Unfortunately, his arrival in the small seaside village brought terrible consequences.

  His wife killed herself and the villagers killed Patrick.

  " 'As his son passed from the mortal realm, Ruadan drained him and, tearing open the vein in his own neck, forced his son to drink his tainted blood. And so Padraig was Turned,' " read Lorcan in his rich voice. His brogue was deep and lyrical. " 'Ruadan took Padraig to the cave where Lorcan lived and bid him to care for his brother. He instructed Lorcan on the ways of the deamhan fola, and warned him that his brother was no longer a man but a creature destined to walk only in the night.

  " 'But Lorcan did not heed his father's warnings. When Padraig awoke, he was mad with grief and hunger. He tore open his brother's neck and drained him to the point of death. When he realized what he'd done, Padraig saved Lorcan in the same manner Ruadan had saved him.

  " 'Now both of Ruadan's sons were deamhan fola.' "

  When he was finished, I clapped. "Bravo! Bravo!" I pressed my hands against my heart. "You did
a great job, Lor."

  He smiled shyly, as though he wasn't sure how to respond to praise. "There are days that it's still strange to know that my family started the vampire race. My great-grandmother Morrigu is very powerful and truthfully, she scares the bloody hell out of nearly everyone."

  "I hope never to meet her," I said, yawning. "No offense."

  "None taken, especially since I feel the same way."

  "How long did it take you to forgive Patrick?"

  Lorcan blinked. "For what?"

  "For murdering you and making you into a vampire."

  Shock etched his features. "There was nothing to forgive. He was starved and didn't understand his new nature. He wasn't in his right mind."

  "Sounds familiar."

  "Eva… it's not the same as what I did. I've lived for four thousand years—that's more life than most get. It was selfish of me to try anything, to do anything in order to keep it."

  "It's not wrong to want to live," I said quietly. "Whether you're forty or four thousand."

  "Eva." He leaned forward and squeezed my arm. "You will not die. I won't let that happen. But as for me… If I had simply accepted my fate, I would've saved the lives of eleven innocents."

  "And Marybeth?" The only daughter of Linda, Stan's not-girlfriend, she had been killed by another lycan hybrid. Lorcan had saved her life by Turning her.

  He snapped the book shut. "Do not do an immoral thing for moral reasons!"

  "Thomas Hardy," I said. "No evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death."

  "Plato. But… the yoke a man creates for himself by wrong-doing will breed hate in the kindliest nature."

  "George Eliot." I pursed my lips, thinking. Then I grinned. "When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."

  "What?"

  "Mae West." I looked at Lorcan, wishing I could hold him in my arms and show him he was worthy of forgiveness and of love. "Here's a little armchair psychology. It's easier to mentally flail yourself and stay away from those you hurt. If you never forgive yourself, you don't have to risk that those you killed won't forgive you."