by Raven Hart
“Thanks in advance for handling this,” William said as we set off for River Street. “Since many of the details need to be taken care of during daylight hours, you can delegate some of the work to your friends at the garage as you see fit. And don’t forget to consult Eleanor often. I want her place to be built back exactly as she wants it. Damn the cost.”
“Sure, no problem. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
“You’re the master of the understatement, Jack. As always.”
I wanted to ask him what else besides the obvious was bothering him, not that the obvious wasn’t enough. In the month or so since the famous Halloween retro-party—a party that had ended with a real bang, as William and his sire, Reedrek, faced off against each other—he’d been busy organizing scattered clans of North American vampires into a federation that could withstand an assault from a vicious band of European bloodsuckers. There was a good chance that Reedrek, who’d nearly killed us and had burned down Eleanor’s home and business in the bargain, had set us up for extermination.
Eleanor herself—who I suspected was the only woman William had loved in the last five hundred years—was teetering between death and living death even as William and I walked the few blocks to the site of her house. Locked in a coffin, she was about to enter a phase of her making so agonizing that most humans didn’t survive it. Especially female humans. If she did survive, she and William could spend eternity side by side. Or not. If she didn’t “make,” as we say in the vampire biz, she got a one-way E ticket to the everlasting flames of hell.
Yeah, you could say William had a lot on his mind.
But besides all this there was something else. My knack for reading William had improved along with my other senses, but he could still block my mind to a great extent, and he was doing it right now. I could tell, though, that the problem was serious, whatever it was. William and I were about as stubborn as a well-matched team of mules. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong until he was good and ready.
We reached the site of the burned house and inspected how the demolition company I’d hired had cleared the site and the builder had poured concrete for the foundation of the new construction. William seemed pleased, always a good thing. After our recent…misunderstandings, I’d returned to my role as his right-hand man. It didn’t bother me as much as it used to. William was almost treating me as an equal. I tried to remember the last time he’d thanked me “in advance.” I couldn’t. It was a start.
“I thought we’d get some of the SCAD people to work on the design, at least for the exterior,” I said, taking a seat on one of the benches that lined the square. The students at the Savannah College of Art and Design are experts on restoring old buildings—or building new ones from scratch that strictly follow the authentic architecture of Savannah’s history. William was a big supporter of protecting the character, as he called it, of his city.
William sat on the other end of the bench and stared at nothing.
I continued, “…and then I thought we’d have some drunk Saint Patrick’s Day tourists come in and do the interior decorating. Maybe vomit green beer all over the place.”
“Whatever you think best,” William agreed.
I stared at him until he finally came around. William is the strongest creature I’d ever known—not counting my granddaddy Reedrek, who was hopefully spinning in his grave. Savannah has its share of badass individuals, both human and not quite. William is the baddest of them all. But even he’d been shaken by recent events. It had to be a kick in the pants to be all ready to kiss the immortal world good-bye, then be talked out of dying by yours truly. Jack McShane, prodigal son, at your service.
“Sorry,” he said, and rubbed his eyes. Since he had just gorged himself on Eleanor’s lifeblood, William’s skin, ordinarily alabaster pale like mine, was almost ruddy. This must’ve been what he looked like when he was alive. I could just see him in my mind’s eye, riding through his fields in the English countryside five hundred years ago.
He sighed. “It’s just that in addition to everything else, there’s still so much I need to tell you.”
I said nothing. For more than a century, William had kept so many things secret about what it meant to be a vampire that I had no clue even what to ask. As a result, I’d nearly slid down the slippery slope of resentment smack into Reedrek’s power. It turned out that William had only been trying to protect me. But now that our survival was at stake, he’d decided an uneducated offspring was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Finally I said, “Yeah, I could have used a lecture about the birds and the bees before I had sex with a female vampire. It wasn’t exactly the same experience as it is with a human woman.”
A hint of a smile played across William’s mouth and then evaporated. “I must admit I overheard your parting conversation with Olivia, and Melaphia filled in the blanks about your little tryst. Usually, a female vampire draws power from a male during sex. I take it the opposite occurred, and you sapped Olivia’s strength to a remarkable degree, increasing your own.”
“Yeah, you could say that. She was wrung out like a dishrag when we got through, and not in a good way. I guess I’m just a freak,” I said sheepishly. “I mean, I’m a freak to begin with since I’m a vampire. And now I’m a freak’s freak.”
William looked at me thoughtfully. “I’d say you’re…gifted.”
“Huh? I don’t feel gifted. I screwed up my only shot at making another vampire. Shari deserved better than being dumped on the dark side of nowhere because of me.”
“Yes, losing Shari was unfortunate. But, think about it, Jack. We always knew you were special. Your powers of communication with the dead of the lesser realms rival Melaphia’s when she’s working her best magic. And look at the way you were able to enthrall a human on your first try—a skill some vampires without voodoo blood never master no matter how hard they work at it. Add to that what happened between you and Olivia. It’s unprecedented.”
“Gee, don’t I feel special,” I groused. “Why do you think I’m different?” I tilted my head upward, sniffing the breeze. The bakery farther down the street had begun baking for the following day. Sometimes I miss regular food. The yeasty, buttery smell of warm bread would’ve made my mouth water when I was human. Now the only thing that can get a rise out of me is fresh blood. Or raw meat.
“You know the answer,” William continued. “What makes you different from any other vampire on earth?”
“How should I know? I’m not the only one with voodoo blood in his veins. There’s you and the other imported Eurovamps that you gave your own blood to.”
“But you’re the first who was born of the blood, Jack. You were the first to receive the voodoo blood as your initial animating force.”
“But what about Werm? You made him, too.”
“I made him when I was in a weakened state. I’d been burned and bled by Reedrek and the essence of the voodoo blood I had left was being used to heal me. There couldn’t have been much left over for Werm. He might have some special abilities we haven’t discovered yet, but I doubt they’re of much significance. Plus, he was such a pitiful specimen to begin with. Entirely unsuitable vampire material. Besides, you’re a first-generation child of the voodoo blood like me now, and Werm’s a level removed from that.”
“How do you figure?”
“Since you just received your own dose of Lalee’s life force right from the source, and since the ancient blood is now used up, there will only ever be the two of us. As a first-generation vampire of the mambo blood, I have certain abilities that others don’t possess, such as my way with the shells. Since you’re just beginning to spread your wings, as it were, there’s no predicting what additional powers you might discover for yourself. Your ability to draw strength from a female during mating and your communication skills could be just the beginning.”
I pondered that a minute. “The night of the shindig in October we gave about a drop of Lalee’s blood to each of the other
vampires after the fight. What about that?”
“It was enough to heal their wounds, which were substantial, and I expect they’re somewhat stronger than they were before, but they’re not as strong as you were even before that night.”
My thoughts returned to the woman in the coffin back at William’s. “So what does that mean for Eleanor? She’s not first generation, but you’re back up to full strength now that you got another dose of the special blood. She’ll be at least as powerful as I was before I drank half that vial.”
William looked solemn again. “We won’t know what it means for her until the process is complete. If she survives the transition, then I’ll animate her with my power. For all I know, from now on sex between her and me could be—”
“Dynamite. Literally,” I finished for him.
He looked into the distance. “Yes.”
In a short time, William would be listening to the screams of the woman he loved as she writhed in agony in her coffin. He would sit there for hours in an obscene mimicry of a dutiful husband sitting by the side of the woman laboring to bear his child. Except the woman’s life-giving force was being taken away. Then there would be the violent mating ritual to seal the deal. If she made it to immortality, the first female vampire ever to be born of the voodoo blood would be loosed on us all.
Saints have mercy.
I was off into my own little worry party when William suddenly changed the subject. “Jack? Do you know why I hate Reedrek enough to burn along with him?”
“Because he’s an evil, smelly, scumsucking son of a bastard’s whore?” I ventured.
William’s mouth quirked upward on one side, almost a smile. Then the dark mood settled over him again. “No, but that applies.” My sire switched his attention from the distance and onto me. “Because he killed my family. My wife.”
His words fired up the image I’d seen when I’d been chasing them, William and Reedrek, the morning after the party. I’d seen William’s family killed, a side effect of the voodoo blood, I guess.
“Her name was Diana…?” I managed. “I saw her in a vision.” Crap. It wasn’t too often old Jack McShane was at a loss for words, but this was one of those times.
William shook his head. His unnatural green eyes held me prisoner. “That last morning with Reedrek…He said she was alive and I called him a liar. He would have said anything to sway my purpose. Beyond that, I can’t ever remember a time when he willingly told me the truth. Whatever the case, I had to find out for myself.” He sighed. “I contacted Olivia and she says…” William paused for a moment. “The one in question is not my Diana.”
“That sucks,” I managed.
He looked away again. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. I’ve waited all these years for revenge, thinking it was the only reason to live. Then for a moment I had the smallest hope that I could find her again.”
“But now you have Eleanor.”
“Well, yes, and that would have presented a dilemma.”
I couldn’t imagine how having a hot female vamp at his beck and call until the end of time would be a problem. Especially since Eleanor was totally crazy about his brooding freakin’ highness.
“I have to say, I don’t see the problem. All right, so you loved your Diana. I thought you…cared about Eleanor.”
“I do and I will, but, had Diana still been alive, I’d already be on my way to find her.”
“Yeah, I see your point.” I thought of Connie and how she was different from any other female I’d known. “Eleanor’s not Diana.”
William
The chat rooms were busy at bloodygentry.com. Good. I wished to lose myself in business—push my concern for Eleanor into the background until she called for me. Jack and I had walked the streets until after midnight. Any later and we would have drawn undue attention from the few humans out at that hour on a Monday evening. And I wasn’t in the mood for the tunnels—the smell of death, the tomblike quiet. So I’d returned to my office, to my computer, and to my incoming mail. Once on the ether, I searched for gold amidst the straw.
From Tobias under the racing guise of the Dark Knight: We’ve had a meeting of minds on the West Coast—northern and southern. I’ll see you at the new moon. Plans are to do a little racing. I’ll be bringing a friend. Stay cool, man.
Cool indeed, I thought before hitting REPLY. Jack would be pleased to hear the news. I wrote, My kindred and I look forward to it.
From Gerard under the guise of G. Mendel: I have proxies from the Midwest and Montreal. Interesting progress on blood tests. I should have most results before I arrive.
After witnessing Jack’s transformation the night of the party—and nearly being exterminated in the melee—Gerard, ever the scientist, had taken a sample of Jack’s blood to explore the mutation and its possibilities. Even I had no idea how it worked, other than the obvious—Lalee and her voodoo blood had saved our immortal skins.
If Eleanor survived this night’s ordeal, I would send the samples of her blood and hair to Gerard as well.
I had yet to hear from anyone in the northeast or Texas, but they would come as I’d asked. They understood the consequences of ignoring a challenge from the old sires, if and when it came. Most still bore the scars from unnatural servitude to their makers. The list of horrors they’d endured was long, the past thick with blood, gore, and pain. They had helped form the Abductors, a secret intervention group to rescue tortured offspring, and we would fight off any attempt at recovery—tooth and nail. Fang and claw. After emancipation, there would be no going back to old-sire slavery.
Better to burn in hell.
But we had to organize quickly. Reedrek was buried deep in the ground, unable to communicate with his allies because an ocean lay between them, but they would search for him. They could already have their sights set on Savannah. If they came for him and incidentally for me, the other New World families must be prepared. I’d already set Jack and Werm to organize a watch on the harbor. My human employees would happily accept double-time pay to unknowingly guard us and the city.
I moved on to a missive from Olivia, who was back in England: The Bonaventures send greetings to you. I am the envy of all since I’ve met you in person. There are only a handful of us within easy distance but word is on the wind. I expect to have a respectable group by Candlemas. We are women; hear us roar.
Now, Olivia roaring, that I could imagine.
Or, rather not. Not yet. Our mouths are shut but we have ears and eyes open. Tell Jackie-boy I’m keeping his secret so far, and he owes me.
Yes, Olivia was not one to admit she’d been bested in any way by a New World upstart. Especially at sex.
After the meeting I may be out of touch for a few weeks. Traveling east to promote the cause, you know. It is a comfort to know you are there where we all need you to be. Ta-ta.
That was the problem with being a renegade. Others had come to depend on my talent for rebellion. After developing my hobby of smuggling persecuted offspring into the New World, I’d somehow become the leader in a second revolutionary war. This conflict, when it came, could turn out to be a much greater disaster for the West. No easy-to-shoot Redcoats, these. The demise of the Native American tribes had nothing on what would happen if a clan of old-sire vampires descended on this continent.
The humans that I walked among had no clue about their vulnerability. Only a coalition of undead former slaves stood between the New World and the rampaging hordes of the old. We had to be faster and smarter to turn back the wave and survive the bloodletting.
As I opened a message from Iban, I felt more than heard Eleanor’s first scream. A different type of dark business needed my attention.
Thank you for your offer of hospitality, I look forward to seeing you and your beautiful city once more. I will have you meet my assistant, S. We are in discussions for the next movie project. I believe you’ll be interested in the subject matter.
Mi casa es su casa, I wrote. And it was true. Iban had earned my respect and
gratitude from the first day we’d met. I trusted him with my life, such as it was. Iban had a wealth of experience with the old sires. Hadn’t the Spanish Inquisition lasted for more than three hundred years? On arrival in the New World he’d been barely a collection of living bones. It had taken decades of care for him to recover—
Eleanor’s growing distress pulled at my thoughts. It had begun. I pushed SEND and shut the machine down.
I’m coming, Eleanor…
Eleanor pounded on the lid of the coffin like a wild thing. Between guttural curses and terrified screams she frantically called my name as if something were eating her alive—from the inside out.
And I was helpless.
I could only sit and wait. Answering her did no good. She was writhing in some other dark place that neither my voice nor my powerful mind could penetrate. There would be no comfort, no familiarity until it was over.
Had I made a terrible mistake? I’d reached out and banished Eleanor’s mortal soul. Did her permission make it any less heinous?
I shoved my hands through my hair and covered my ears. The screams led my long memory back, replaying the past like a broken record…Diana, Diana, Diana. I stood and began to pace, doing my damnedest to leave the past be. There had to be something I could do for Eleanor, some way to ease her terror.
Then I heard the ocean, the calming call of the shells. Whether because of my distress or the new dose of Lalee’s ancient blood I’d taken, I didn’t have to retrieve them; they came to me of their own accord. As quickly as my mind registered need, the bone box appeared, floating before me for the using. I knew the shells could transport my waking mind through time and space like a dream. But could they take me to the dark place where Eleanor lay trapped? And could I do anything once I got there? There was only one way to find out.
