Box Set: The Fearless 1-3

by Terry Maggert

  She narrowed her eyes as the first visitor of the day came through the door. Danger, she frowned to herself, it isn’t in the river. She shuddered, despite the warmth of the sun through the windows. He is on the ocean, and he comes west.

  16

  589 B.C. Pannonia

  With this, I am healed, he gloated as his teeth bit deeply into the throat of the young warrior. The horse his victim had ridden was still well within range, but he chose to savor this morsel. It had been nearly two centuries of skulking about after he was shamed so thoroughly—the horsemen he had led to a crushing defeat spanned the length of the continent in some places, it seemed, and to move among them was nothing less than courting their considerable residual ire. In his weakened state, he’d been forced to live like any peasant, reeking of nightsoil and horse sweat, fear always at his shoulder. He tossed the corpse aside, noting how light it was after his attentions. Even the wild dogs would find it poor fodder, but he wiped his mouth and inhaled sharply to clear his vision of the haze that descended upon him with each successive feeding. Catching one of the Avar scouts coming west was exceedingly easy; they were so blooddrunk with the thought of invasion that their ordinarily excellent discipline slipped the further they ranged from their commanders.

  All the better to stoke my resurgence. The last years had been difficult, if not impossible. Just when he found his power returning to levels that would allow him to ascend within a local power structure, hunters of an unknown, yet lethal, nature would appear like wraiths and chase him relentlessly. He’d been cut down no less than six times, and yet, he continued to awaken. Weaker, yes, but still alive, and blazing with hatred that his goal should be denuded by humans. He had not worried of discovery since, and with each clash, he slaughtered these mysterious pursuers to the last man, leaving no tongues to wag and describe the man who was resistant to everything except the wicked spears of his occasional judges. No, with each cumbersome sleep he was forced into by these hunters, he emerged bleary eyed, starving, and eager to begin his quest yet again. Persistence. It is the mark of a god, he thought, and turned his eyes to the west.

  17

  Florida

  Risa cocked her head and assessed me in a critical manner, her dark eyes wandering about my face with a calculating gaze.

  “Haircut time,” she announced, and went to get the scissors.

  “What’s the occasion?” I called after her, but she waved me off and then motioned for me to go outside and await my bimonthly shearing. I knew better than to resist, so I whistled Gyro up and we decamped to the back yard. It was a particularly fine day and the water of the canal had a briny tang that was fresh enough to indicate the tide was running hard. I sat at the edge of the seawall while Gyro investigated the entirety of his limited kingdom. The clunk of the door behind me meant that my haircut was imminent. It was a tradition going back ten years, born out of frugality when the three of us were far too poor to afford things like hair care, let alone professional cosmetology. Wally was blissfully unaware that such a thing even existed, but my hair grew at an alarming rate, a fact that made me the ideal test subject for Risa’s barber skills, which were admittedly slow to develop.

  I turned and smiled at her, then she wordlessly handed me a tall orange juice and began pulling my hair back from my forehead as she considered her palette.

  “Where are we going that I am required to look presentable?” I asked as she began tugging my locks into a line between her small fingers, then snipping the ends precisely with economical motions.

  “Dinner at Strata with Kevin and Delphine. He texted late last night when you were already in your post-orgasmic coma.” I could hear the smile in her voice. Wally and I had enjoyed a rather vigorous interlude brought on by her runner’s high. Naturally, as the caring partner that I am, I was only too happy to help her relieve her tensions in the bedroom. And the shower, and then the bedroom again. Wally really builds up a sexual appetite from exercise. It’s the primary reason that every Christmas I give her no less than three pairs of running shoes and all the socks she can burn through. I like planning for success, especially with something as important as sex with Wally.

  Risa stroked my hair softly and said, “She needs you, you know.”

  Those words were flavored with the generosity of Risa’s spirit. For whatever reason, the three of us worked as a family. We were succeeding in something that was beyond unique. Even if the heated physical gratification was stripped away, there was still love, fascination, and underneath it all, respect. I reached back and gripped her small calf, smooth under my hand, but taut with muscle. That simple assurance of her presence, her hands in my hair and all that it meant to me, to us. It was a bulwark against the single fear that the three of us would never admit to: being left alone. She read my thoughts, because she stopped her ministrations and leaned over me, her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. Our breathing mimicked one another, and then I felt her smile break through again as the melancholy dissipated into the sunlight.

  “I need her too.” I spoke simply, truthfully. We’d been through the dark together, and now, life was unusually good. I inhaled deeply, relishing our reality. “And you, all of the parts of you. I love you, you know.”

  Risa rounded me, sliding into my lap, and laid her head on my cheek. “I know,” she muttered into my neck. “We know.” She held out a defensive forearm to stall Gyro from breaking up our moment, but he burst through to snuffle us with the enthusiasm that only a dog can muster. Laughing, Risa stood to resume her task, positioning my head in an approximation of level as she began to trim again. “So, dinner tonight with our friends, a sort of reintroduction for Delphine. She’s been spending a lot of time with him, repairing the damage of her time in captivity.” She paused, and added, “And everything before, I think.”

  “That’s a good plan. Make sure to tell Blue we’re coming.” I thought about the first meal we’d eaten at Strata, when the appetizer of oysters with caviar, crème fraiche and a tall, chilled shot of Russian vodka in the middle, gloriously phallic and utterly delicious, were brought to our table in my honor. After I had made a scene devouring the clever dish, our server had innocently asked how I enjoyed Czar Nicholas’ Balls. The resulting laughter was a price I was more than willing to pay for the pleasure of vicariously fellating a deceased regent, and Risa once again read my mind, smiling at me and miming a blowjob with a positively angelic expression on her face.

  “In the mood for a man’s balls in your mouth tonight?” She asked, laughing as she was forced to deflect my hand, which had detoured wholly of its own volition towards her ass, with the intent of a sound smack.

  I scowled with mock indignation and then delivered my most optimistic proposition of the day. “Maybe you are now?” My accompanying leer was, admittedly, not the best move in my repertoire, because she rolled her eyes and held up the scissors, allowing them to flash ominously in the sun.

  “Point taken.” I conceded my defeat and sat still, letting her finish my trim in relative peace. It didn’t pay to be greedy, no matter how willing your partners were. It was a lesson that seemed to continuously escape me, but looking at Risa in the sunlight, it was clear that the risk was vastly outweighed by the rewards.

  * * *

  Blue greeted us at the door when we entered the doors of Strata just before nine that evening. Kevin and Delphine were waiting, he clad in a dark suit and looking more like a statesman than priest, while she wore a simple dress of deep blue and managed to cause everyone in the entire room to stare at her openly—at least until we came in. Wally’s presence, bolstered by the opposite radiance of Risa, was something to behold, and priest or not, Kevin and I exchanged grateful, wry smiles. We knew the effects that so many beautiful women could have on their environment, but we also knew them as people, which made for a much more interesting vantage point. Risa presented a dark, simmering intellectual beauty, her olive skin radiant as she stood next to me, while Wally’s blazing perfection was declarative of
idealized sexuality. Delphine greeted us demurely, but with a warmth that revealed her discomfiture and joy at being among us. She smoldered, every gesture laden with a sensuality that made even me flush slightly.

  And she isn’t even trying, I thought, laughing inwardly at my own reaction. It wasn’t the fact she was a succubus; I knew that side of the woman. It was her underlying beauty, which she possessed before her change into an immortal being, that I found nothing short of a marvel. I could tell that Kevin saw it, too, and if pressed, I knew that Risa and Wally would not only grant that she was remarkable, but admirable. I felt that our table would be comprised of peers, rather than a disparate collection of souls travelling under different flags. When Risa squeezed my hand and then hugged Delphine, I knew my instincts were correct.

  Blue beamed at us as we approached the dark wood lectern topped with a muted bronze lamp. “Hullo, you all look amazing.” She came around the tall desk with her arms extended in greeting, and Wally, then Risa, and eventually all of us were welcomed warmly. She shook Kevin’s hand and smoothly placed a companionable arm around his waist, guiding all of us to the raised table in the far left corner.

  “Father, I’m so pleased you’re here, we’re honored to have you.” Her green eyes flashed devilishly up at him and he responded in kind with a brilliant smile of his own. Blue was immensely likeable, damned pretty, and solidly in control of every aspect of the entire commotion that unfolded before us. She intuited my question and said, “Achilles is stirring an enormous pot of some pungent stock. I could bathe in it, it’s easily forty gallons, but he and Patroclus are expecting you, so they’ll visit the table when they can.” Mollified by that assurance, we all settled in to our table and were greeted by the ebullient Kristin, who possessed the type of prescience that only head waiters and mothers seem to channel so easily.

  “I see we have a new guest, this evening, Ring, Wally, Delphine, and Risa.” Kristin recited our names with practiced ease, pausing when she arrived at Kevin, “I’m Kristin, and you must be Kevin?”

  “Told you she was good.” Wally said, smirking at Risa, who pinched her long forearm in response. My lovers are nothing if not adults.

  “A pleasure, Kristin,” Kevin replied in his baritone, inclining his head at her professionalism.

  She responded by clapping her hands lightly, and announced, “The chef has some selection with you in mind, of course, but in the event that anything is not cooked to perfection, simply let us know. Now”—she turned to Kevin—“I’m told that you’ve a weakness for seafood?” When he nodded, she continued and tipped her head at Delphine, saying, “The chef has recreated a dish for Delphine that he feels you will enjoy as well, so in a moment, we’ll begin with soup and amusements for all. Ah, and here is our wine .” She indicated the grim-faced sommelier who elegantly presented a bottle for Delphine’s inspection. Her reputation as an oenophile preceded her, and we were thankful that she was included in the early enjoyment of the table.

  Little victories, I mused, as Delphine’s face lit up at the first sip of wine. She closed her eyes with pleasure, and then opened them slowly to find me staring at her. Her lips curled and she nudged her glass towards me. A small motion that carried meaning beyond measure, and I stirred inside despite my attempts at control.

  A modest tumult behind us announced the arrival of our first course, and three jacketed staff under the direction of Kristin began to deposit our dishes with a flourish. To no one’s surprise, the majesty of Czar Nicholas’ Balls awaited my gustatory judgment. Kevin, forewarned about the impending penile invasion of our dinner, looked suitably scandalized, but then recovered when he examined the separate elements of the dish.

  “It is rather . . . impressive,” he remarked dryly. The entire table laughed at his astute observation, and we began to investigate one another’s dishes. There was a dainty salad in front of Risa brimming with intensely colored dandelion greens, the sheen of olive oil burnishing their spiked leaves upon which crystals of sea salt twinkled merrily at random intervals. Wally’s spring rolls were translucent and filled with some aromatic combination of sausage and egg, a nod to both her Argentine and Germanic preferences. Only Delphine and Kevin had matching dishes. I recognized the soup, if not the bowl it was held within, because I had tasted it before, the first time I met Delphine aboard her yacht.

  It was a restorative from her youth, she had explained to me, a thin clear broth of seaweed and delicately whorled snails, and a remembrance from three millennia ago. She sat, momentarily stunned at the sight, but then a smile touched her eyes and she inhaled the steaming vapor in appreciation. With a quirked brow, she asked me wordlessly if I had been the source of this homage to her past, and I gave a small nod to admit that yes, I had described the dish in detail some time ago to Patroclus in hopes that one day, he could present it to her. She dipped her spoon in as we all turned to our own meals, and then she froze, dropping her utensil as if it shocked her.

  Gradually, we all became aware of her discomfiture, but it was Risa and Wally that she looked at first. Composing herself, Delphine asked, “Join me outside for a quick cigarette, girls?” Her tone brooked no argument, even though neither Wally nor Risa smoked, and I was fairly certain Delphine had quit, or at least stopped since her ordeal. Kevin looked at me askance and I pasted an approximation of a smile across my face.

  Softly, I said, “They’ll be back in a moment. She may just need some time to compose herself. A flashback, maybe?” I looked at him inquisitively. He knew that in Delphine’s mental state, aftershocks should have been something that we anticipated, so I drank my wine quietly with Kevin. Somehow, the oysters didn’t seem as appetizing just then.

  The women returned, chatting amiably, but to my ear, it was forced. When all three had composed themselves and resettled, Risa leaned over to me and brushed her lips against my ear. “Three tables away, a couple. She’s fifty, he’s twenty-five. She’s got money, clearly, so he might be a boy toy, but it’s also obvious that he’s a fucking vampire, probably turned this month. He’s playing with his food and making fuck-me eyes at her, and their meal is just about wrapped up. Delphine spotted him and he ignored her. He doesn’t know there’s another immortal in the room, and he doesn’t know that he’s been made, either. How do you want to handle it?” She finished by kissing my cheek playfully, and then leaning back into her seat.

  Just our shitty luck. I allowed myself a moment of self-pity, but then regained my composure. It achieved nothing to be a petulant ass when the truth was that we had been remarkably free of violence for some time. I stole a discreet glance over my shoulder. Delphine’s senses were dead on, it was a woman of class and breeding, probably in her early fifties and still rather beautiful. She had clearly avoided the trap of surgery and styling that left a brittle exterior, and she smiled and laughed easily with the young man sitting across the table. The sensuality surrounding him was palpable from this distance, and his eyes never strayed from his prey. My first impression was disapproval. He hadn’t seen us assess, him despite four sets of eyes making their way in his direction. Bad news for you, friend, I thought, labelling him an amateur. I put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder and motioned that he should follow me.

  “I have something I need you to see,” I said in a near whisper, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood, waiting for me to lead. I noted that the vamp and his date were standing, too, just as I had planned, and I quickly made for the doors, Kevin in tow. I put my finger to my lips. Watch, I signed to Kevin, and he stood with the complete stillness of someone used to waiting.

  The vampire was awkwardly gallant, cementing my belief that he was very new to this. He’d probably been someone ordinary, just another face among the masses, but not anyone accustomed to women like his date. Or her money. They waved off the valet and began to walk towards us, so I turned to face the water. There were people around, some milling about in front of Strata, hoping for a nonexistent table, but the seawall area and accompanying boardwalk were s
parsely occupied. There were countless alcoves and shadows for the vamp to attack, so I waved silently to Kevin as I pulled my knife from inside my shirt. His eyes went wide as it sunk in that he was seeing a kind of murder, and yet, he remained stalwart in his posture. He was made of stern stuff, and I think he understood that in bringing violence, I was ending a greater evil. It was the type of moral conundrum that someone of his mentality could feast upon. As for me, I was going to use the simplest solution I knew, and the only one that I was certain would result in less death.

  Four steps behind them, we walked softly but swiftly, then three steps, then two—the vamp whirled in a graceful pivot and hurled the woman to the ground with an audible crunch, then stepped over her towards us, and I found Kevin at my side with his hands up like a boxer. Sterner stuff, indeed, I confirmed as I chanced a glance at the priest. And then my knife was up and out and—

  —crack. The blade hit the left side of the vampire’s sternum and slid sickly through to his heart. Total shock and a spittle-laden hiss sputtered from his lips.

  “How did, but,” was all he could muster before my knife did its work, and I let his corpse sag to the ground. His skull thumped against the boards of the walkway and I stepped back quickly to brace Kevin’s arm.

  “Watch,” I commanded, and the vampire began to sublime in the whirling torrent of blue lights and ashes, and in seconds, he was gone. “The young ones go fast.”

  Kevin stood in mute shock, and then shook his head slowly. “To see it, is so much more . . .”

  “Real? Tangible? Despite it being something from fantasy?” I asked him, pulling him to the woman who lay groaning on the walkway.

  “Yes. But more on that later, I think.” He switched his voice to one of authority, asking her, “Are you hurt, ma’am?” We both knelt by her as she struggled to sit.