The Ruby Blade

by Amy Cissell

  Almost immediately after that, Florence announced that it was time to retire, and Raj said he needed to leave to feed before the sun rose. Five minutes later, I was alone in my motel room.

  I told myself I was glad that Florence was able to appoint herself as Emma’s caretaker, as she obviously needed a lot of care, but I missed my friend. The entire eastern seaboard’s power grid was mostly out, although occasionally a surge would turn on a cell phone or radio or television that had been left on when the first blackouts occurred, scaring the pants off everyone in the vicinity. There was no reliable way to get news anymore. Even worse, there was no reliable way to get mind-numbing entertainment.

  I was certain that soon enough, news would be flowing again, albeit slower than in the information age. Printing presses would have to be unearthed, perhaps recovered from museums and basements and old storage closets. Horses and stagecoaches would be in demand, and the pony express would no longer be a thing of history books.

  I was desperate to find out what was going on in the rest of the country. In the areas we’d passed through, life seemed to be continuing. People were nervous and armed, but as many services as could still be provided were being provided. Every day, though, fewer and fewer people were willing to accept paper as currency, and soon, it would be a thing of the past. I was glad we had so much to trade. We had plenty of fuel to get us to where we were going. We had enough food, if we were careful, to last for two months if we didn’t supplement it with anything. We had enough liquor to last about that long, too, if I didn’t share. I was surprised at how little looting I’d witnessed, especially with a noted lack of National Guard. Maybe people really were better than I’d given them credit for.

  I needed to get in touch with Arduinna soon. We hadn’t spoken since before the Yule gate had opened, and although she’d sent the guards as promised, they’d done nothing when the human police shot me. The thought triggered a surge of righteous indignation, and another wave of heat flooded my body, warming me to the tips of my toes.

  I tried to calm myself before my anger caused a small conflagration in my bed. I needed to shift. The more time I spent as a dragon, the more I was able to channel the knowledge and bursts of prophecy that must be a part of my dragon heritage. I still thought of her as a separate being, but I needed us to become, if not one, at least not something I regarded as separate. I wondered if Isaac and his wolf were separate or the wolf was just Isaac in another shape. He wasn’t here to ask, and I wasn’t sure Emma would be willing to have that conversation with me. It seemed kinda personal.

  When I was the dragon, I was still me, but not entirely me anymore. Now, in my human shape, I was mostly me, but she was there, slumbering.

  I was getting a headache from too much thinking and not enough drinking. I wished I wasn’t alone. I’d been alone so much in the days before this had all started, and I’d loved it. I loved going to bed alone and waking alone. Finn spent the night occasionally, but not often. Every once in a while, I’d take a different lover, but we never progressed to the point where we spent more time together than apart. But now that I’d had the opportunity to sleep next to someone I cared about for weeks, it hurt to not. When I’d roll over and fling my arm across the void that should have been his body next to mine, it woke me, his loss echoed through my heart.

  I knew it would get easier, and knowing he was alive—regardless of Finn’s declarations and Florence’s beliefs—would help. I just hoped that time passed as slowly for him as it had for Emma. If fifty years was six years for her, then the next six months should only be a few days for him. I had to hold on to that belief—that he’d barely notice the passage of time.

  I sighed, wrapped the blankets more firmly around myself, and tried to ignore the streams of sunlight pouring in through the cheap, thin curtains. I guess that’s why Raj couldn’t stay. Not that I should expect him to, after that rejection. I needed to stop leading him on if I had no intention of following through. I did intend to stay out of his pants until after New Orleans. Florence hadn’t steered me wrong yet.

  The big thoughts about the condition of the world rolled over the little thoughts about my relationship with Raj and got tangled up in my feelings about Raj and Isaac and Finn until my mind was a Gordian knot and my stomach a roiling acid bath. I didn’t often descend into melancholy, and this was why.

  Every decision I’d made was coming back to haunt me, but what I couldn’t let go of was my feelings for Raj and Isaac. I’d told Isaac I loved him one time, and never could say it again. Was it because I didn’t or because I was afraid to admit what he’d meant to me?

  If I did love him, why was I so tempted by Raj? It was more than his physical beauty—although that was formidable. He intrigued me. I knew we were playing, regardless of what he said, but I was afraid I’d start taking him too seriously. I’d made it almost thirty-five years without suffering from a broken heart, and now I’d had it broken by Isaac and was giving Raj the power to break it again.

  Florence must have known. Regardless of whether or not Raj was a rebound guy or something more serious, she knew I’d fall for him. That must be why she warned me about getting involved too quickly. I needed space and logic. I was good at logic. And staying out of situations likely to result in emotional pain.

  I took a deep breath, resolved to keep Raj out of my heart as well as my bed, and poured another glass of wine.

  I was dreaming again. This time, I was in New Orleans. I’d never been, but I recognized it from countless movies. Finn was there, speaking to a terrifyingly beautiful woman. She was tall, Rubenesque, and emanating power and magic. Her dark skin and darker hair made her a three-dimensional shadow in the unlit alley in which they stood. She regarded him with contempt, as he all but groveled before her, which made her lip curl up in an expression identical to mine. How had I not seen this side of him?

  I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she listened, finally nodding. He attempted to hand her what I decided must be a sack full of money. She refused to accept it, and he looked desperate as he thrust it towards her again. Two towering figures with sickly pallors and quick but lumbering gaits came up on either side of her, and Finn backed away. I followed him, and as soon as he was out of her line of sight, he straightened and grinned a purely evil grin, all signs of cowering subservience falling from him. He dropped the sack and gold coins poured out. It attracted the attention of two children who could only kindly be described as ‘urchins.’ They ran towards the gold, and the first skidded to a stop and reached to grab a handful. I looked up in time to see the expression on Finn’s face twist into something malevolent and amused, then looked down again to see the child writhing, face contorted and mouth open in what looked to me like a soundless scream. The gold coins he’d scooped up were melting and coating his body, and everywhere they touched, the child…disintegrated.

  I felt sick and looked to the other child, hoping she’d been warned in time, but she’d had her eyes on the coins and not her companion, and was caught in a similar trap. In minutes, both children were gone, and the coins were lying scattered on the ground, looking like nothing more than a serendipitous find for the next passer-by. If this dream was anything like the last, I knew I’d be able to touch them, but had no desire to be eaten by tiny gold monsters. I wondered if I’d be immune in my dragon shape. Dragon hide was tough, and we had a natural affinity for gold—if that was really gold made malignant and not some kind of Fae creature with which I was unfamiliar. I looked around and spied some garbage cans and lids, and decided to use tools once Finn made his exit, instead of risking my skin.

  He stayed for a long time and seemed disappointed when no one else ventured by. Finally, he gave up, and disappeared, leaving his cursed gold behind. I stepped forward, once again existing on my dream-plane but separate from it, and grabbed my tools. I used the garbage can lid to scoop the coins back into the bag and took the sack, which I noticed was iron lined, and tossed it into the nearest bog. I hoped that would b
e safe enough. I made a note of its location, though, so we could come back and retrieve it and attempt to destroy it when I had more resources at hand.

  I decided it was time to wake up then, and strained mightily to do so.

  “Not quite yet, child,” a voice said.

  I spun around so hard my ponytail whipped around and caught me in the eye. The woman Finn had been speaking to stood a few feet away. Her power was even more visible than before.

  “You can see me?” I asked, then kicked myself.

  “Obviously,” she said, sounding amused.

  “You made a deal with my enemy,” I said.

  “That was also obvious, although you probably also noticed he did not leave happy.”

  “He probably wanted you to take his person-eating money.”

  “I was to give it to Raj as payment for betraying you.”

  “Would it have killed him?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Oh, you’ll know soon enough. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  “Why did you stop me from leaving?” I asked.

  “To let you know that I could see you and to take your measure.”

  I tilted my chin up. “And?”

  She laughed, softly, but her voice sounded like it was echoing from the walls of the deepest sepulchers.

  “You are not so silly and weak as I expected.”

  “Your kind words have been noted.” I pushed as much sarcasm as I could into that.

  She laughed again, and I shivered. She turned away, calling over her shoulder. “See you soon.”

  “Wait!”

  She stopped but did not turn around.

  “Will he?”

  Now she did turn, and her eyes looked a little sad. She didn’t bother asking me to clarify my vague question. “I think he will.”

  I woke up.

  Chapter Four

  I WOKE WITH a start. “Fuck. Fuck that stupid elf right in the ear. With a sword.”

  “Another dream?” I looked over and saw Raj lounging in a chair near the useless entertainment console. I tried desperately to keep the conclusion of my dream from surfacing in my mind but was completely unsuccessful. Why is it, the more you try to not think of something, the more you think of it? Like trying to not think about peeing when there are no bathrooms available. Or not thinking about sleep when you have insomnia. I tried to ramble on in my brain for as long as possible before Raj made me tell him what had happened.

  “I will not make you do anything, my sweet,” he said. “Although, I am admittedly…curious…about your meeting with the Queen.”

  “Holy shit! That was the Queen of New Orleans? The one you’re going to give Savannah to?”

  “Yes, she is the one to whom I will give Savannah.” I rolled my eyes at his incredibly non-subtle grammatical correction.

  “I know the correct grammar, asshole. My sentence just went too far to go back and correct it without sounding even more awkward.”

  “You should learn to be more measured with your speech and those embarrassing verbal gaffes will be less likely to happen.”

  “Are you trying to change the subject now?”

  A smile ghosted across his face. “I am attempting to prove I would never make you tell me what happened when you met the Queen.”

  I sighed. “I need to tell the Finn parts to Florence as well, and what the Queen said. Mostly. But you can decide if we tell Florence the part about you.”

  I relayed the whole dream to Raj, including that Finn had tried to make sure that the person-eating money came to Raj and that the Queen believed Raj would betray me.

  By the end of the retelling, Raj’s face resembled sculpture more than living flesh with no emotion shining through the marble mask. “I am troubled,” he said.

  “Yeah, me too! I’ve been open with you and am pretty fucking sick of people betraying me. Isaac’s betrayal was not like Finn’s, at least, but his sacrifice still feels like a betrayal to me. I have a feeling that Florence would also betray me if it meant she’d get her sister back. What is out there that would cause you to do the same?”

  “Only one thing, and it is not something I believed the Fae or the Queen could know about. I would’ve thought everyone who knew would long be dust and ash.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  “Not today, for I must prepare myself for this tale, and decide if I will tell only you, or if Florence should know as well.”

  “She might already,” I said. “She did tell me to stay out of your pants until after New Orleans because something that would happen there might change my mind about you. I thought she was just trying to make sure I didn’t go too fast on the rebound, but maybe she foresaw this.”

  “She might know there is a possibility that I would betray you, but not for what.” He sighed, something I seldom heard from the thousand-year-old vampire who didn’t need to breathe. “Eleanor, my sweet, I must leave you now to meditate on what I have learned. I will return in three days and tell you my story then.”

  “Raj, before you go, please take some refreshment.” I blinked. That’s not what I’d meant to say, but once I’d said it, it seemed right.

  He spun around, and his eyes were already glowing red. “You can not mean that.”

  “I do. You’ve had one sip, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “And you need three to track me?”

  “You would be inextricably bound to me if I drank from you three times.”

  “You have had three nips from Florence, and three from Isaac. I don’t think Emma is ready for this, and she’s probably already tied to Michelle.”

  “I can break those ties.”

  “But you can’t track me. Drink from me now and then again after you tell me your story.”

  “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “Yes, but I trust you.”

  “You trust me, even after the Queen said I would likely betray you, and I admitted there was one thing that might lead me to do so?”

  “Yes.”

  Raj was at my side, and I could see his elongated teeth. “I ask you once more, Eleanor Morgan. Do you give me your blood of your own free will?”

  “I do.” The words were hardly out of my mouth before his teeth were at my throat. This was no minor nick on the wrist, and in the first moment, the pain was almost incandescent as his teeth pierced my skin, before it was washed away with pure, body-numbing, orgasm-inducing pleasure. He drank deeply but not for long. He tore himself away, nicked his thumb, and rubbed the blood over the holes in my neck. That act was almost as sensual as the drinking had been, and a second—or was that third?—orgasm made me shudder.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. He handed me a glass of water.

  “Uh-huh.” Language still eluded me, but at least my breathing was returning to normal.

  “You are amazing. Your taste is so hot and fiery and delicious.”

  “Like a taco,” I mumbled.

  He laughed and then kissed me on the lips. I tried to deepen the kiss, I wanted to repeat that experience immediately, but he pulled back. “You’re not thinking clearly right now,” he said.

  “Obviously.” I reached for him again, and he glided out of reach.

  “Is it always like that, for everyone?” A thought struck me. “Oh my gods, is that what happened to Florence?”

  Raj looked a little uncomfortable. “No, it’s not always like that.”

  “Did you do that for Isaac?”

  He grinned. “A little, maybe.”

  I laughed. “You’re a dirty old man.”

  “I wanted to make it pleasurable, but you seem a bit more susceptible than most people I bite.”

  It was my turn to be uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m easy like that.”

  “Feeling more yourself and less likely to jump me?”

  I assessed. I was still pretty hyped up, but no longer uncontrollably horny. “Yeah, I think I’m safe.”

  Raj walked n
earer. “Thank you for that most precious gift. It will be interesting to find out what effect your blood has on me, especially now that I’ve had more than just the taste I had before.”

  His thanks rang through me and for the first time I felt the burden of an unpaid debt. This must be why you don’t thank the Fae. I opened my mouth to ask him to take it back, but he merely shook his head. “I will pay this debt to you, although I don’t yet know how.”

  A thought occurred to me—one that probably should’ve occurred before I affirmed my willingness to donate a little blood. His first taste—a tiny sip—had made him immune to the threshold laws and nearly immune to silver. This had been much more than a nip. From the slight widening of Raj’s eyes, I guessed that he was not only continuing to invade my thoughts but that he’d—at least in the moment—forgotten the implications of taking my blood. I shook it off. We’d find out soon enough, and speculating wouldn’t do any good.

  “Raj, can I ask you a question?”

  “You just did.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Go ahead, my sweet.”

  “Does drinking blood affect you the same way it affects those you drink from?”

  “Are you asking if drinking your blood made me want to throw you back in the bed and take you repeatedly until we were both too exhausted to move, our throats hoarse from screaming each other’s names?”

  I closed my eyes for a second, trying to squash down the mental picture. “Yes.”

  “Yes.”