by Ashe Barker
James was right to be wary. Ged would have fucked Serena in heartbeat if either of them had one. She had never been interested in him in that way though, preferring the more studious and infinitely more learned Highlander despite the fact that James was a mere infant of just two hundred and fifty.
Apart from her encyclopedic knowledge of vampires, Serena possessed more than a passing knowledge of other paranormals too. Ged had only encountered one or two shifters in his time and had not warmed to them, but he quite liked witches on the whole. Serena embraced them all, her thirst for understanding unquenchable. If anyone could advise on his current predicament, it would be her.
"Have you ever come across stories of time travel?" No point beating about the bush, he came right out with it.
There was a pause, then, "Once or twice. Do you really mean stories, as in fantasies which we know are made up, or actual time shifting events?"
"What? You mean there are such things? Really?"
"I believe so, though it's not my area of expertise."
"Whose area is it?"
"There is someone, a witch I believe, based in Chile. She wrote a thesis on the subject. It was very interesting. Shall I forward it to you?"
"Yes, do that. But, I need to talk to her."
"I doubt that would be possible. She's somewhat reclusive."
"Give me her number. Please."
Serena chuckled. "It’s not that simple, as you should know. Marta Roi is an alpha-grade telepath so she doesn't have a number. Doesn't need one—if she wants to hear from you, she will."
"Are you in touch with her?" Ged knew it was virtually impossible for a mediocre delta-grade telepath such as himself to make first contact with an alpha, but Serena should be able to.
"Yes, we do correspond occasionally."
"I need you to check something out for me."
"Go on."
Serena listened in virtual silence as Ged related the events of the last day or so. She asked occasional probing questions, both about the mysterious woman who had appeared on his property, and the wife he had thought dead for all these years. As he finished his account, she asked him the one question he refused to ask himself.
"Do you believe her?"
"I know she's not lying." Even a delta could penetrate the thoughts of a mere human. "Jane believes that she is my wife."
"I meant, do you believe she has travelled across time?" Serena's tone was patient, but implacable.
"I... yes, I think I do. But..."
"But you'd like some more tangible proof. She brought nothing with her, you say, apart from the clothing she was wearing?"
"That's right. Oh, and a candlestick, possibly. I found it close to where I found Janey."
"Send the clothes to me, and the candlestick. I'll get them age-tested. That won't be definitive as the fabric could have skipped a few centuries also, but Marta might be able to detect something."
"Thanks. You ready?"
"Give me a reference. I have a lock on you."
"Hold on, I'll just put the candlestick with the rest." He laid the candelabrum on top of the small pile of clothing. "Okay. The stuff is to my right, about three metres away." He glanced over at the nightdress and wrap, now dried but not washed, and folded on his kitchen table. As he watched the clothing and the candlestick shimmered as though caught by a sudden draught of wind, then disintegrated before his eyes. "Do you have them?"
"I do. Certainly looks authentic. I'll get to work on it. Meanwhile, where’s Jane now?"
"She's here. Sleeping. She's been somewhat traumatised by all this."
"I'll bet. Remember when you were first turned? I expect this feels similar. Will you take care of her?"
Ged had arrived at much the same conclusion. If some massive time shifting event had taken place the chances were that Jane would need help and support as she acclimatised to her new circumstances. Ged hadn't much relevant experience. He was not a vampire who had much patience with fresh little turnlings as a rule. He appreciated the value of managing the novices through their transition phase, not least as newbie vampires could be a deadly bunch. They had a tendency to go off careening around the place and getting them all a bad name. Ged was happy to contribute financially to support the global network of reorientation centres which now existed, but preferred not to get his hands dirty.
"Yes. She'll be staying with me." He surprised himself with the vehemence of his tone. He had promised her, though, and would not renege on that.
"Good. That's probably for the best. I'll be in touch." Serena ended the call, and Ged slumped in his chair. At least he was taking action now, and he should be able to learn something from Serena's enquiries. And his longtime friend hadn't thought he was crazy, which was encouraging.
Less than three minutes passed before his phone rang again. He glanced at the caller ID to see his lawyer's face smiling back at him.
"Hi." Ged wasn't sure whether to expect his lawyer’s voice, or Serena's
"Hi yourself." It was James.
"She told you then?"
"Of course. Man, this is a turn-up. A wife, eh? That changes things."
"It does? How, exactly?"
"You know how, exactly. Unless of course she enjoys the same games you do."
"And you."
"And me. But Serena's the perfect submissive for me and I'm a one-woman Dom. You, on the other hand..."
"Jane isn't a submissive." Or, he recalled, she didn't used to be. Hell, she didn't even like vanilla sex that much, never mind the fucking kinky shit he loved.
"Awkward."
There was no need for James to elaborate, Ged knew exactly what the implications were. A wife who didn't share the lifestyle would be unlikely to readily accept her husband topping other women, or at least, not here in the enlightened twenty-first century. Back in the fourteen hundreds fidelity had been a more fluid concept. Life was simpler then, a wife did as she was told.
"It needn't be awkward." Who was he trying to kid?
"Ah, not a love match, then?"
"Hardly. She was only ten when we were married. We were betrothed when she was only two years old. I was twelve, I think."
"Children grow up. How old is Jane now? Or then?"
"She died—sorry, disappeared—when she was about twenty two as far as I remember. It has been a long time."
"And she never warmed to a decent whipping? Even when she was older?"
"I did not whip my wife, James. I spanked her on occasion, when it was warranted, but I was a perfect husband." Ged was indignant, more so as his friend laughed out loud.
"Perfect husband, my arse. You were a Dom then, the same as now. If you never whipped her, then how do you know what your little wife might have liked? Did you spank her for fun as well as to punish her? Fuck her until she couldn't stand? Did she have a tight little arse or was she—"
"For fuck's sake... Jane was a lady. My lady."
"Right. And...?"
"Fuck off, James."
His friend was still laughing as Ged hit 'end call'.
Christ, what a fool he'd been, not to mention an insensitive, faithless clod. James' questioning might have been crude, but it had the desired effect. Ged accepted that he had not the faintest idea what his little lady wife might want. He'd never taken the trouble to find out.
Meanwhile though, he knew full-well what he wanted. His cock and fangs had told the story, reacting to a bolt of sheer lust before he could exert any sort of self-control. He knew his threats and misguided attempt to coerce the truth from her had terrified Jane, although she had seemed to accept his word that she wasn't in danger from him now. He sincerely hoped that was the truth. Then later, as he watched her in the shower, a towel draped discreetly over his lap, he'd managed to summon up a little more forbearance and kept his fangs concealed, but had still been obliged to mutter his excuses and leave her to it when his aching jaw would be denied no longer. He'd dived into his own bedroom for the privacy he required, not returning until he'd
worked out the tension single-handedly.
He glared at the now silent phone as his thoughts drifted back to that earlier time when she truly was his wife. Janey had always been a pretty little thing. He had managed to ignore that fact with spectacular success while she was still ensconced in Richard and Anne’s household, but the truth of it hit him right between the eyes on the day she descended from the Duke’s coach in the centre of his courtyard, ready to make Roseworth her home.
She would have been fifteen years old by then. His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth as he bowed over her hand in formal greeting. Determined to impress his bride with his courtly manners he had brushed his lips over her knuckles, marveling at the delicately boned fingers and skin which resembled the finest porcelain. Her beautiful hair shone like burnished gold, the dark reds and copper tones glinting under her coif. Unbound it fell to her hips, though she normally kept it restrained as befitted a lady of the nobility. Jane was well-trained, a perfect lady.
On the day of her arrival in his home Jane stood before him in the courtyard at Roseworth, her lovely dove-grey eyes lowered. Her smile was soft, her lips trembled slightly and in that moment he knew she feared him still.
Jane had always feared him, a fact he found both abhorrent and impossible to escape. She had cowered under the protection of Richard and Anne yet all the while she was his. Jane was his property, his wife to bed as he pleased, yet even though she now dwelt under his roof he couldn’t bring himself to force her when he knew she did not desire him. For the first couple of years it didn’t matter. He could wait for his heirs, and in the meantime, his keep was full of warm, willing females. His needs were met handsomely and his perfect little wife remained pure.
He used to love to watch her move around his castle, instructing servants, inspecting the linens, collecting herbs and flowers. She had an imperious way of carrying herself, her chin up, her spine stiff, but he recognised the vulnerability beneath the prickly façade. From the distance of half a millennium and benefitting from those centuries of experience he could acknowledge that back then he had looked at a woman, but he never ceased to see a small, frightened girl. The same little girl who had pleaded not to be wed to him, who had delayed the inevitable for as long as she might, seeking a haven in the hall of his northern overlord until she could put off the evil day no longer. Even when Jane arrived at Roseworth, biddable and compliant, he could not bring himself to despoil the innocent child he had married.
He had no option but to consummate their marriage eventually, and he smiled now as he remembered the circumstances. The little brat all but challenged him to do it, and he was never going to let that pass. So he took her virginity, right after spanking her until her bottom glowed all shades of red. He was quick about it though, and Jane had appeared relieved at his consideration. He resolved not to make unnecessary demands on his sweet little bride. A man such as he needed heirs, and he did what was necessary, no more.
As for the rest, for bedsport proper, he was surrounded by women perfectly happy to do his bidding. He had been spanking his bedmates since he was fourteen years old, and none had ever complained. Not a cruel man by nature, he nevertheless knew what he liked, and he could divine what his companions might enjoy too. Gerard of Roseworth had been an inventive, generous and dominant lover to countless females. His dalliances were mutually rewarding, and his bye blows cared for—if he knew of them.
It had nothing to do with his marriage and Jane had no cause for complaint. Indeed, she did not offer any as far as he could recall. Theirs had been a peaceful, if unexciting, union.
Would she be content to continue in that vein? More to the point, would he?
*****
Ged went back upstairs, entering the spare bedroom as quietly as he was able. Jane's eyes were closed, but they flew open as soon as he crossed the room to stand beside the bed. He could see she'd been crying again
"It is gone? All gone? Everyone? Is there no one left?" Her voice was little more than a whimper. Her near-palpable despair wrenched something deep within him, tugging on heart-strings he had thought long gone.
"I'm sorry." It was little enough, but all he had for her.
She gripped the duvet under her chin, peering at him through spiky lashes. Somehow, this time, he didn't think it was him she feared.
"Was that the truth? Those things you told me earlier?"
Ged frowned, trying to recall just what he had said.
"Is it really two thousand and... what was the date you mentioned?"
"Ah. Two thousand and thirteen. Yes, that is the year now." He regarded her with concern. "It's January," he added, uselessly.
"It was the summer then. Before..."
"I know. I remember it, I think—that night you disappeared. It was August, fourteen eighty five. You had just heard the news of Richard's defeat, and you were upset by it."
Ged settled on the bed beside her, and she shifted to make space before turning to lean on his arm. On impulse he draped it across her shoulders to pull her closer. "You rushed off, out into the night. I had men out searching for you. We scoured the area for months, but found no trace, nothing at all."
"I am sorry, I should not have... I went as far as the lake, that is all. I was on my way back when I slipped and fell into the water. I was coming to talk to you."
"It doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago. I knew how devoted you were to Richard and to the House of York, so I thought..." He hesitated, uncertain if he should voice the fear which had haunted him since that dreadful day.
"What did you think, my lord?"
He ought to correct the form of address, but he let it go this time. "I thought you might have done yourself harm."
"You believed I had killed myself?" Her expression now was incredulous. "But, that would have been a mortal sin. Why would you believe such wickedness of me?"
"You’d had a shock, suffered a grievous personal loss, and suddenly you were gone. I didn't want to think that, but as the months passed with no word, I began to wonder."
"I would never have done such a heinous thing."
“Garrick reported that you were shocked by the tidings from Bosworth, deeply upset. It was an explanation..."
"Garrick? Did he live, then?"
Ged shook his head. "No, not for long as I recall."
"I... I am sorry. He was a good man. I know that he had your trust."
"He was a fine soldier, that's true." In fact, Ged struggled to recall Garrick's features after all this time, but he had no doubt the man had died bravely and in the service of his King. "It was...all so long ago."
"I... I know that." He glanced down to see tears glistening in her eyes again. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Where have I been for all this time, until now?"
Ged had no ready answer for that, at least not until he heard from Serena again. Until he did, he preferred to dwell on those things he could control. "Search me. What matters is, you are here now. We need to work out where we go from here."
Jane sat upright, her expression startled. "I do not wish to go from here. This is my home. It is where I belong and you cannot send me away."
"No, I didn't mean that. I mean, what are we going to do? About your future?"
"My future? I do not understand."
"Well, here you are, so we have to assume that here's where you'll stay. Here in this time. So, what are you going to do next?"
"But, I cannot remain here. I must return to... to..." She abandoned the quest for words to describe her plight. She met his gaze once more. "And you too, surely. You are as much out of place in this time as am I."
Ged stiffened, a reaction not lost on Jane.
"Except, you are not, are you? You appear to be quite at home among these fantastic objects, in this strange dwelling." She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious suddenly. "How can that be? How do you know so much of this time in our distant future? Have you been here for a long while? Did you slip between the centuries also?"
He tigh
tened his hold on her when she would have wriggled away. "Jane, I said earlier that we need to talk. Now is as good a time as any."
"Very well, my lord. I am listening."
It was a tale Ged had only recounted on rare occasions. It was not in the nature of vampires to share their stories with others not of their kind, and Ged struggled to find the words. He opted to commence by addressing Jane's own questions.
"You asked if I've been here for a long time, since I seem to be at home in this century."
She nodded, her eyes narrowing. "Yes, I did ask that."
"I have been here for a while, though unlike you I didn't travel across time to do it. The truth is, I have been alive since we last met. I am five hundred and sixty years old."
Now Jane did succeed in escaping his embrace. She knelt on the bed and gaped at him. "That cannot be true. You have not aged at all. Your hair is shorter, you are perhaps more solid across the shoulders, but you remain a young man."
"I am neither young, Jane, nor am I a man." There, it was out. Almost.
"But, you are. I can see that you are."
"I'm a vampire. You do know that, you saw my fangs."
She backed off, her eyes widening in disbelief. "I… I thought that perhaps I had imagined that... that monstrosity…. that it was but a conjuring of my mind, created out of my confusion and shock."
He shook his head. "It wasn't. I am a vampire. Do you know what that is, Jane?" He couldn't recall what exactly was known of vampires in the fifteenth century.
"I have heard stories, ugly, diabolical tales of unearthly creatures of the night who feast on the blood of mortals. That is not you. It cannot be you."
He quirked his lip in a wry smile. "Sounds about right, actually. Well, not the feasting part, we're more civilised these days. But we are immortal, to all intents and purposes, and we do prefer to avoid sunlight if possible. I was thirty two years of age when I was turned, a couple of years after your disappearance in fact, and I have not aged since then."
"That is impossible. All of God's creatures must wither and die eventually."
