Pomegranates full and fine

by Unknown Author

  Miranda needed blood to heal her wounds. Tango didn’t dare offer the vampire any of hers. The Kithain blood might drive her mad. “No, Miranda. It’s me, Tango.” She showed her the knife-ring. “Tango. Tolly disguised me. You can’t drink from me. Wait.”

  “Blood.”

  Tango wasn't sure if the vampire had understood her. She forced herself to turn away from the vampire, as people on the street turned away from the homeless and hungry. She walked around the tree to investigate the golden light.

  Riley was propped up against the tree’s trunk, his head turned to one side and nodding onto his chest. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, his face calm. He was dressed almost exactly as he had been when she had met him in Pan’s. Magickal sunlight covered him like a blanket and inspired the leaves over his head to lively green instead of insipid gray. Apples hung from the branches. Riley might have been napping in an orchard instead of magickally imprisoned in a Nephandus mage’s cellar.

  Tango hesitated for a moment, then reached for him.

  A dry, stick-like grasp caught her arm, stopping her by its presence rather than its weight or strength. “No,” husked Miranda. There were marks and scratches across the dirt of the floor. The vampire had dragged herself after Tango. There was a brief lucidity in her eyes, pushing past the brightness of unthinking hunger. She had understood. “Burns.” She gestured feebly with her blackened hand.

  “Not me, Miranda. I’m not a vampire.” But the magickal sunlight would explain why Tolly knew where Riley was trapped, but couldn’t rescue him. Full exposure to the light would have destroyed a vampire utterly. Miranda’s hand must have been forced into it by whoever had tortured her.

  The vampire’s warning did, however, make Tango hesitate. There was no telling what Solomon’s strange sunlight might do to her. It could put her to sleep, as it apparently had Riley. It could, in spite of her living condition, burn her as it had Miranda; it might be that anything entering the light was burned, while Riley slept undisturbed. She turned to go back and fetch the broken branch that had staked Miranda.

  Miranda’s dry weight was still clinging to her. Lucid thought was gone again. One arm still on Tango’s arm, the other around the Kithain’s waist, the vampire stared hungrily at the jacket she wore. Her mouth stretched open like a snake’s and her tongue came flickering out to lick at the fabric. Tango could feel its papery pressure. Miranda’s head moved closer, jaws wide, fangs ready.

  The blood that Solomon had conjured during the Bandog ritual. Tango had wiped her hands on the jacket. Miranda sensed the drying blood, her instincts drawing her to it. There wasn’t enough in the fabric to sustain her by any means, but there was enough to whet her hunger. Enough to break what control she had.

  Tango shoved her away. It was more difficult than she had expected. The starving vampire was much stronger than her skeletal, wounded body suggested. Miranda hissed, lunging at her again. Tango whirled off the jacket and pushed it at her. Miranda snatched it out of the air. Her mouth fastened on the bloody stains from Tango’s fingers, sucking desperately at the dry cloth. Tango backed away from her. She didn’t dare turn her back on the vampire again, in case she attacked her. That could be dangerous for both of them. Tango’s blood would render Miranda helpless at the very least. And while Tango had never been bitten by a vampire, she had seen the effects of their bite on humans — the pleasure was said to be so intense that only the strongest wills could continue to fight against it. Her will was strong, but she didn’t want to risk slipping into that ecstasy. Miranda would drain her dry in an instant.

  The vampire’s hunger would also spoil their escape.

  The back door in the kitchen had seemed the most likely route of quick retreat. Out the door, around the house through the shadowy yard, down the street to Tanner’s car, and then back into the city, back to a bolthole that Tolly had arranged for her. Somewhere, he said, where she and Miranda and Riley would be safe from location by Solomon’s magick. Of course, that plan had been built on the expectation that either Miranda or Riley would be able to walk on their own. In a pinch, Tango’s nocker strength, coupled with the size of Tanner’s body, might have enabled her to carry both of them. There was no way, however, that she would be able to carry even Riley if she had to contend with a vicious, struggling vampire.

  There was only one solution that Tango could see, and it wasn’t an option she liked. She had to try it, though. Backing rapidly up the basement stairs, she prayed that Miranda wouldn’t abandon the bloody jacket for a few more moments. She shut the basement door behind her and slipped back toward the front of the house. Luck was with her; a number of the Bandog were still lingering in the foyer and parlor. There was no sign of either Solomon or the blond doorman. Tango spotted the short man who had curried her favor before the ceremony. She caught him by the shoulder. “I put in that word to Solomon for you. He wants to see you.”

  “Now?” the short man squeaked.

  “Now.” Tango almost dragged him back along the hall to the kitchen and into the pantry. She hated herself for doing this. Even more, though, she loathed the fact that a part of her was eagerly anticipating what would happen next. The short man looked around him with confusion.

  “Where’s Solomon?”

  “Downstairs,” Tango lied grimly. She opened the basement door. The stairs were darker than they had been before. The lightbulbs had been smashed. The only light was the dim glow of the magickal sunlight. She ushered the short man down the stairs, making sure that she stayed several feet back from him.

  Miranda dropped out from among the ceiling beams like a thin, shadowy stroke of lightning. Her fangs were in the short man’s throat before he could make a sound. Or at least before he could make a sound of terror. His last breath was an ecstatic gasp. Then the only noise in the gloom of the basement was Miranda’s frenzied slurping. Tango tried not to watch, but there was no way she could escape that primal, blissful sound. When it finally stopped, she turned and asked, “Miranda ?” The vampire’s eyes were coals in the shadows. “Thank you.” Her voice was deeper than normal, but it was stronger. “Is that really you, Tango?”

  “Yes. Tolly....” The story was too long to explain now. “Was he enough?” she asked instead. She felt sick. Sick and dirty.

  “No. But he was a start.” Miranda rose. “I’ll be all right for a while. Tango, I’m...”

  Tango cut her off. “Later. We have to get Riley out, too. Before anyone misses Tanner or....” She gestured at the drained corpse. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “Did you know about Riley?”

  “No.”

  Tango wasn’t really sure whether to believe her or not. “Do you know anything about the light he’s in?” She found the stake. Something embedded in its broad end cut into her palm as she picked it up. Fragments of glass. This must have been what Miranda used to break the lightbulbs.

  “Only that it bums like sunlight.”

  “Let’s hope that’s all.” She poked the wood into the sunlight. Nothing happened. Good. She threw it off into the darkness. “All right. I’m going to try and wake him up, but I’ll keep my legs out of the light if I can. If I fall asleep or anything, haul me out. Okay?”

  Miranda’s glowing eyes bobbed as she nodded. Tango knelt down and reached slowly into the magickal glow. It was warm on her skin, just like real sunlight. She pulled herself forward. When her head entered the light, she realized that it smelled just like sunlight, too. Sweet, green and muzzy. Her mind felt heavy. The light was putting her to sleep, making her fight to keep her eyes open. She forced her hand to reach out and grab Riley’s shoulder. She shook it hard. “Riley?”

  He didn’t stir.

  “Riley!” she said again, this time yelling as loudly as she dared. She slapped him.

  The pooka groaned sharply. His eyelids twitched. Tango slapped him a second time. This time, his head jerked and his eyes opened. His gaze was vague, like that of anyone who has been woken suddenly from a deep sleep. He tried to focus o
n her, but couldn’t. His eyes drifted closed again.

  It was enough. Tango grabbed a handful of his shirt and began pulling him back toward the shadows. She felt Miranda dragging at her ankles. Taking a more secure grip on Riley’s shoulders, she let the vampire do the work. Reentering the darkness was like plunging into ice water. She was alert again instantly, though Riley remained asleep. Who knew how long he had been under Solomon’s enchantment? Tango started to shake him again, trying to wake him up. Miranda grabbed her wrists.

  “Later?” she suggested.

  Tango nodded. Taking a deep breath, she drew Glamour into her muscles and stood with Riley’s lanky form cradled in her arms. Miranda went up the stairs first. She paused before opening the pantry door. “Now what?”

  “Back door. Around the side of the house to the street. I have a car.”

  The vampire nodded and opened the door. The sounds of the Bandog drifted back from the parlor and foyer. Miranda crossed the floor silently, Tango a little less so. Miranda eased open the back door — and then they were slipping into the night and around the house.

  Where they encountered a problem. Bandog were standing around on the verandah of the house as guests leaving any party might do on a pleasant summer night. If the two women tried to cross the front lawn, they were sure to be seen. Tango pointed across the broad side yard of Solomon’s property toward thick bushes and trees. “What’s that?”

  “A ravine. But there’s a fence,” Miranda whispered back. “I know a better way. Follow me.” She started off. A cloak of shadows covered her, making her almost invisible in the night, probably entirely invisible to those who stood by the light of the door.

  Tango didn’t follow. Miranda looked back at her. Tango regarded the vampire suspiciously. Was she sure that Miranda wasn’t just going to betray her again? She didn’t have much choice if she wanted to get out of here. She paced swiftly after the vampire, stepping into the concealing darkness of her shadows. Miranda looked away without saying anything.

  They hugged the edges of the yard, staying close to the deep natural shadows of the ravine. Tango held her breath, half-certain that they were going to be noticed at any minute. But there were no shouts of alarm. They stepped out of the yard and around the corner onto the sidewalk. There were no Bandog on the street, and they were hidden from Solomon’s house. Tango let out her breath.

  Miranda collapsed.

  “Shit!” Tango spat. She squatted down as best as she could, balancing Riley carefully. “Miranda?”

  “Too much,” the vampire wheezed. “Shadows take blood to control. I need to rest. Need more blood.” Tango chewed her lip, glancing up the sidewalk toward Solomon’s house and down toward Tanner’s car. Bandog might appear from the direction of the house any time. The car was about half a block away. She looked at Miranda. “Are you going to try and attack me again?”

  Miranda managed to shake her head. “No. Not that hungry. But I need... I need blood soon.”

  “Tomorrow, maybe? Could you make it to tomorrow? We’re going to a hiding place and Tolly said to stay there until he comes tomorrow.”

  Miranda didn’t respond.

  Cursing quietly, Tango jogged as quickly as she could down the block to Tanner’s car. She propped Riley up against the car as she dug in Tanner’s pockets for the key. She found it and shoved Riley into the backseat. Then she went back for Miranda. The vampire might have been a gangly puppet for all of the strength in her limbs. Her right hand still felt rough and flaky where it had been burned. The skin of her strong face was likewise rough with scabs from the wounds that had marred it. Only her hair seemed anything like it had been the last time Tango had seen Miranda healthy — thick, heavy and luxurious. The mustiness of Solomon’s basement clung to her. Tango sat her carefully in the passenger seat of the car. It was hard to get her body to stay upright long enough to get the door closed. Finally Tango just left the door open, went around to the driver’s side of the car, climbed in, and reached across the vampire’s still form to pull the door shut. Miranda’s head fell forward onto the back of Tango’s neck as she did so.

  For a second, Tango froze. Slowly, she reached up and tilted Miranda’s head back again.

  Ian Tanner’s car started smoothly and pulled away from the curb like a ghost. As she drove back downtown to Tolly’s safehouse, pressing the envelope of the speed limit the whole way, Tango realized something that had been lost on her amid the horror of discovering the Bandog’s plans and the thrill of finding Riley again.

  Solomon’s rite of summoning, and the accompanying chaos, would happen in two days. On Highsummer Night. .

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lizzie uttered not a word;

  Would not open lip from lip Lest they should cram a mouthful in

  Miranda knew she was awake because she was dreaming.

  She had heard chat some vampires dreamed while they were asleep during the day. For her, though, sleep was darkness. A descent into bleak, black nothingness. She was oblivious to the passage of time between dawn and dusk. To be sure, she had occasionally woken during the day, but it was always full waking, her instincts sensing something amiss and bringing her instantly to bloodthirsty alertness. Sometimes, however, in the period of twilight after the sun was below the horizon and before full night had developed, her mind would stir before her body. And Miranda would dream.

  This dream went on far longer than normal — or at least so it seemed. There was a peculiar timelessness to it.

  She lay in a shadowy bower, on a bed of soft, dark cushions. Someone stroked her hair. Half-glimpsed through the leafy branches above, the moon stood still in a star-laced sky. There was fruit in the branches, a curious, shifting mixture of apples (which she hated), pears (she had found a worm inside one once), and peaches (her favorite fruit). Miranda held a piece of fruit in her hand, a piece big enough to fill her palm, but still as light as if it were half-hollow. Lazily, she raised it to her lips (perhaps several times) and bit into it with strong, white teeth. Blood flowed from the broken skin. The flesh of the fruit was woody, the skin tough and dry. The juice was ecstasy.

  Somewhere, a dog howled. Something snuffled around outside the bower. She ate her way deeper into the wretched, delectable fruit. Once the blood touched her lips, the hard flesh that contained it seemed to melt away.

  “Miranda.”

  She tried to ignore the voice, and continued to lick and suck at the fruit in her hand. The voice was insistent, however. She turned her head. Solomon knelt beside her, naked in the shadows. The moonlight lingered on his smooth skin and strong body, caressing his sculpted face. His tattoos were gone. He held fruit in his arms, cradled against his chest and neck. Miranda took another. As she did, Solomon came with it, his warm, living touch sliding up her bare arm and across her breasts and stomach. She was naked as well, although the shadows were her clothing. She ignored Solomon. The exquisite fruit in her hands was so ripe with blood that the red juice welled up from the deep bruises left by the slight pressure of her fingers. Abruptly, Solomon was between her legs, down on his knees in the position that excited him so much, desperately trying to awaken Miranda’s flesh. But the only pleasure Miranda knew was what came from the fruit... or would have, if she could just eat enough of the fruit. The ultimate fulfillment of pleasure resisted all of her attempts to reach it, though. No matter how hard she sucked at the fruit, no matter how hard she squeezed at the fruit, the complete satisfaction eluded her. It was like striving toward climax, but never quite achieving it.

  Spilled blood drenched her face and arms and breasts. Someone was still stroking her hair. Something was still padding around the bower, its flickering shape sometimes visible beyond the drooping branches.

  Solomon was hurting her. The fruit he had held tumbled from his arms. With each of his thrusts, more fruit dropped in. a rain of black leaves from the bower above. The sweet blood of the fruit fell on her body, though, so she endured the pain, letting him use her as she grabbed at the fallen fr
uit.

  It was dry. It was sour. It was bitter. It was cloying. It burst into decay against her mouth.

  Miranda just grabbed desperately for more.

  Hands in the shadows captured her arms.

  For a moment, she remembered the horror of the Sabbat’s Creation Rites. Limbs trapped by the heavy darkness of grave soil. Eerie, smooth, hard surfaces that were too warm to be rocks, too regular and dry to be buried wood. Black dirt in her mouth and nose and eyes and ears. She struggled, but the unseen hands held onto her arms. She thrashed wildly, panicking. Solomon clung to her, even his caresses causing her pain now. Her flailing arms drew Blue and Matt out of the shadows. The other vampires lapped at the blood that covered her, drinking it in and growing fat on it.

  They started biting her, sucking at her body as she had sucked at the fruit. Matt looked up from her breast and smiled venomously. Blood was a mask on his face, his fangs gleaming through it.

  Groaning, Solomon thrust another fruit toward her face. It was the largest and plumpest she had seen yet, bursting with blood. Her head strained to reach it, mouth wide, fangs eager.

  The hands stroking her hair paused. The thing outside the bower stopped as well, and she saw what it was. David in his dog-head mask, waiting. The leaves shifted. No, it was a huge mastiff. Shaftiel. Waiting for her.

  Matt raised the long, gray, misshapen stake, just as he had before, and held it over her heart. One heavy thrust was all it would take. A drop of blood fell from the fruit in Solomon’s hand, landing on her chin. Miranda felt her tongue go questing helplessly after it.

  The soothing touch of the hands left her head. The distant moon looked down through the long branches of the bower. Miranda screamed in horror, in desperation, in need, in utter loneliness. Tears tore down her cheeks. She threw herself frantically toward the moon, reaching for it with one free arm... impaling herself on the stake that Matt held.