“Do try it on,” he urged. “It will look gorgeous on you.”
“Okay.” Just holding the necklace in my hand made me feel beautiful and extravagant. Trying it on was better and worse at the same time. From the look on Phillip’s face, I knew that it must have looked wonderful, but not being able to see it for myself was unbearable.
“Oh, you simply must look at yourself. It’s astonishing!” He toddled off again, mumbling to himself, then glanced back at me. “Oh, by all means, follow me. I never move the mirror, it’s too delicate.”
Around the corner he’d so frequently darted past was a large ornate desk with a gold reading lamp shaped like a dragon. Light poured out of the dragon’s open mouth, illuminating an old book with pretty little pictures around the words. A leather case containing an assortment of pens lay open on the desk and a slim silver laptop rested in an over-stuffed reading chair directly across from the desk.
Phillip brushed past the desk and over to a pair of doors set back between two bookcases. He opened them to reveal a full-length mirror held by a crystal frame that was decorated with fanciful flowers and artful designs. In the mirror I could see not just Phillip’s reflection, but my own. I looked better than I ever had in life.
Everything about being a vampire rushed in on me at once—the rampage in the Demon Heart, the blood, Eric, Lillian’s terrified face as I struck her down, all of it, my mind seared like bacon in a hot frying pan.
Then, almost as if the mirror had a will of its own, I sensed that it wasn’t satisfied with what it had made me feel. I guess I hadn’t been dead long enough to truly horrify myself with what I had done, so the mirror rummaged through my life for ammunition. The last conversation I’d had with Rachel had been a fight. Our words rang out in my ears. Each mistake I’d made, each humiliation I’d ever endured, the mirror latched onto, multiplied, and distilled. All the times I’d ever been hurt, by Rachel, by my parents, by Eric, crashed back on me as one exaggerated assault.
You want to see how pretty you look?the mirror’s whispering not-quite voice wheedled in my thoughts.I’ll show you what you look like on the outside, but only if you can endure what you are on the inside.
Turning into a vampire had made my emotions more volatile than they’d been when I was alive. I’d been crying right and left since the change, like having PMS all the time. I was easy prey for the mirror: the tears came quickly, pouring red down my cheeks, a deluge of self-loathing, self-pity, and remorse. I turned away.
Doors clicked shut behind me as Phillip covered the glass. The mirror’s taunting voice slowly faded, but having once peered into it, I could feel it there, behind the thin paneled doors, watching me, waiting for me to take another look.
Talbot rushed to my side, but I waved him away. I didn’t want to be comforted; I was too busy being mad at myself for crying. I was tired of crying. I hadn’t cried when my grandmother had passed away or when Rachel had died, and the mirror had exploited that, thrown it back at me in a horrible way. Phillip offered me his handkerchief and I took it, soaking the red silk with my blood as I tried to stop the tears.
“Damn it,” I said between sobs.
“It’s my fault,” Phillip said, sounding genuinely angry with himself. “The mirror allows a vampire to see his reflection, but it takes its toll in other ways. We who gaze within that mirror must face the things we’ve done as vampires, our hidden sins, the things that would make us cringe and weep were we still human. I’m so used to it that I had forgotten the effect it can have. I shan’t show it to you again without giving you time to prepare.”
“Is it alive?” I asked.
“There is a demon trapped inside to power it,” Phillip answered, “if that’s what you mean. It’s only a small one.”
Talbot took my arm and we walked out of Phillip’s study and back into the main room of his chambers. “If there is anything I can do to make it up to you,” Phillip offered, “I would be most pleased if you would tell me. You may keep the necklace, of course. I knew at once that you should have it.”
“No, I can’t, it’s too much.”
“Bah,” Phillip protested. “It was a gift from so long ago that I no longer remember who gave it to me. It’s yours whether you take it or leave it, though I’d rather you took it. I have collected so many things over the years that I could give half of it away and never notice.”
I smiled, and my tears began to subside. “How long have you been alive—I mean, how old are you? You seemed—that is, you felt kind of young, you know, outside.”
“Oh, not quite a thousand…each time I ascend it makes other vampires sense me as though I were younger, but my mind has not forgotten the truth that the magic conceals.”
“And you really used those things in the box to become a vampire—to ascend?”
“You will, in time, learn not to question my veracity, my dear.” Phillip’s eyes hardened briefly before softening once again. “But you are new and I can’t bring myself to hold it against you, so yes. Oh, yes. Vampires have always been reluctant to grant immortality to wizards, are strictly forbidden to do so now, unless it is done via a thralldom, which is a capricious immortality at best. So, yes, I had to find alternatives.
“I used those ‘things in the box’ along with rituals, demons, and of course, vampires of the required power level…. Does it concern you? I’m already a Vlad; you have nothing to worry about from me on that account. I’ve no further need for sacrifices from those of our rank; my final ascension will be much more difficult to arrange. Besides, I’ve made it a habit to expend only those I found distasteful, and I find you anything but.” He waved a hand. “Enough talk of me, though, I am still waiting to know how to make it up to you—my faux pas with the mirror.”
“But the necklace—”
“The necklace is a gift, my dear, not an apology. I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it.” He gestured around the room. “Excepting the Stone of Aeturnum and my own existence, you may choose from anything I have. Even Percy. Please, take your pick. I insist.”
His eyes sparkled mischievously. “I could dispel the enchantment on the city. I used a Veil of Scrythax, you know. Have you seen one? Oh, they’re ghastly-looking things, but incredibly effective and oh, so delicate. There are nights when I’m gripped with the urge to rush to the vault, seize the hideous thing and smash it to pieces, to let the humans see us for what we really are and remember all the things I’ve hidden from them. Think of the panic! It would be impossible for the Council of High Magic to contain it. Another war with the humans would be such…fun. It’s always so interesting to see how the human rulers choose to conceal it from their constituents.”
Uh…no. There was nothing that I saw in Phillip’s house that I really wanted and a war was not my idea of fun. There were plenty of things that it might be nice to have, but…I wondered what Percy had done and whether I ought to ask for him and let him go. Then Talbot mouthedwerewolves at me and I remembered that I was supposed to be finding out about the magic gun thing.
I held my hand out to Talbot and he handed me the silver bullet. Phillip’s eyes lit up when I showed it to him. He delicately took it from my outstretched palm and held it up to one eye.
“A bullet fromEl Alma Perdida , meaning in Spanish ‘the Lost Soul.’ I wonder where he found it.”
“I was…we were looking for the rest of it, the other bullets, and the gun. Talbot tracked it here for me.”
“Ah,” Phillip said excitedly, “information, the most valuable gift of all! Do you realize how rare it is for one of my new acquaintances to ask me for information? They all ask for money or power—”
A knock at the door interrupted him. “That should be Dennis,” Phillip said as he walked to the door. “He is one of my applicants, you know. An intern…as it were.” Phillip looked through a small eyehole, midway up the door and smiled. “It is he.”
He opened the door and invited Dennis inside, but the man declined. “I just wanted to let you know that the lady and he
r companion have been added to the ward matrix, sir. I apologize for taking so long, but Mistress Gabriella was quite interested in your new guest.”
“What did you tell her?” Phillip asked eagerly. He seemed giddy, childlike in his delight.
“As per your standard request, sir, I told her only that the lady and her companion were your guests and that they were to be given access to all of the common areas.”
“Was she vexed?”
“Quite vexed,” Dennis replied.
“Excellent as always, Dennis,” said Phillip. “You may go.”
He closed the door and walked back over to me. “Please, excuse the interruption. Gabriella has been a bit wroth with me for the last few decades. She recently relocated from Atlanta in hopes that she might be the agent of my eventual demise. How quickly my offspring turn against me. But you wanted to know aboutEl Alma Perdida ; you thought you might find it here?”
“Yes. We think a female vampire, a Soldier, has it and we think she’s in the building. Her name is Veruca.”
“Meaning wart…such an unpleasant name for a lady.”
I’d been taking one last sip of blood wine when he said that and it shot out my nose as I tried to stifle my laughter. I caught the blood with the handkerchief I was still holding, but I continued to cough and sputter. My nose and sinuses started burning and I would have dropped to my knees if Talbot hadn’t caught me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, coughing, “that’s just too funny. Her name means wart? Eric calls her Froggy.”
More blood tears formed in the corners of my eyes and even Phillip chuckled. “That is indeed an unfortunate nickname for one whose name comes from the Latinverruca, meaning wart. At least he doesn’t call heracuminata. Verruca accuminata would be just too terrible….”
Only Phillip laughed that time. He quickly controlled himself and sat down in one of the armchairs. They were slightly undersize for a person of average height, but they suited Phillip quite well. He smiled in my direction and motioned for me to sit. Instead, I walked over and knelt next to him. It let us look at each other eye-to-eye and I was tired of looming over him.
“And you believe her to be in possession ofEl Alma Perdida ?” he asked.
“I do.”
He caressed the air about the bullet with his fingertips, but his eyes did not leave mine. “No one by the name of Veruca lives here, I’m afraid, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t staying here with someone else. Did she have any other acquaintances who might have a residence here?”
I nodded. “Her boyfriend, Roger.”
“Ah, yes, Germanic, meaning quiet…or famous spearman. And this Roger, would he be a Master vampire?”
I nodded again.
“I spoke with him several months ago,” Phillip said as he stroked his chin with his left hand. “Utterly ignorable. He tried to engage me in no less than three business transactions. He wanted to buy the Stone of Aeternum from me. I didn’t sell it to him, of course. You don’t sell those sorts of things; they are given or sought. I am not in retail. I think I suggested that he talk to one of the local demons, though. It’s in my log.” He raised both hands in a dismissive gesture. “I can always check it later.”
“Do you remember the other transactions?” I asked.
“Oh, he had some foolish notion about my backing him in the Orchard Lake acquisition. Naturally, I declined. Vampires like him will be the ruin of us.” He trailed off and his eyes focused on someplace far away and probably long ago. Eric has that look sometimes. “Let’s see if your Wart is sleeping over, shall we?” He walked over to an old-fashioned wall phone, lifted the earpiece, and held it at arm’s length. “Dennis?”
I could hear Dennis easily, one of the benefits of being a vampire. “Yes, my lord?”
“I want you to check on a Master vampire named Roger. See what suite he is in and find out whether or not he has another vampire by the name of Veruca visiting him. Ring me back as soon as you know anything, would you?”
“Of course, sir,” Dennis answered.
A barely audible click signaled the end of the connection on Dennis’s end.
“He’s going to find out and get back to us,” Phillip explained. “He’s such a clever boy; he’s the current leader amongst the male applicants.”
“Applicants?” I asked.
He laughed. “I do hope you will excuse me for not explaining earlier. Every decade I have a contest to determine my next two children: one boy and one girl. It keeps me busy, and some of them make wonderfully entertaining opponents after a few centuries.
“But enough of that. Dennis should be back soon and I don’t like to let them hear too much about who is in the lead. It makes them insufferable. While we wait, could I get you another glass of wine? Perhaps your mouser is hungry? I’m certain Dennis could scrounge up a rodent or two.”
I stared at him blankly. “I’m fine, Lady Tabitha,” Talbot told me.
“He’s fine, thank you,” I said with a puzzled look on my face.
Phillip nodded absentmindedly, then snapped his fingers. “I could play the violin for you. I’ve only been playing for a century, though, so I haven’t mastered it yet.”
Talbot cleared his throat. “Maybe you could tell Lady Tabitha about the Lost Soul? What’s it for?”
Phillip set the bullet down on a table and dashed off. It sounded like he was wrestling with a box of Christmas lights. When he returned, it was with a beautifully crafted violin case. “Perhaps I shall do both?”
I nodded and he opened the case.
19
ERIC:
GRETA
I woke to a cacophonous mix of werewolf howls and trucks revving their engines outside the Demon Heart. I was getting tired of fucking around with these stupid werewolves. The door to my bedroom in the Pollux swung open and Greta stepped inside. She’d cut her hair. It was short now, but still blonde. Dressed in running shoes, jogging shorts, and a sports top, she looked none the worse for wear. The only sign of her recent conflict with the werewolves outside was the remains of a tiny media player still clipped to her shorts; there wasn’t much left of it.
“Up and at ‘em, Dad. There are werewo—” She paused in midsentence as she spotted Rachel. “So that’s Tabitha,” she said awkwardly. “She’s certainly…um, pierced, isn’t she? Those cannot have felt good.”
“Her name’s Rachel,” I muttered as I rolled out of bed. “I turned Tabitha. This is her little sister.”
“Jesus, Dad,” Greta complained. “That’s screwed up even for you.” Greta blanched at her own sentence, worried that she’d criticized me too harshly, that I might have taken her seriously, missed the teasing tone in her voice. She looked purposefully away from Rachel’s nakedness and cocked a thumb toward the door, hiding her dismay behind a jaunty smile. “Let’s kill the werewolves across the street and then you can tell me all about it.” She looked back at Rachel and sighed. “Or better yet, you could just not.”
I rolled my eyes and headed for the door. “Did you have a nice trip?”
“Oh, yes,” Greta quipped. “It’s been great. Those werewolves have been chasing me all night. I probably could take them, except they’ve got crosses and stuff. How’s Mom?”
We headed out of my room and down the stairs.
“I think she suspects that the Demon Heart is really a strip joint,” I joked.
Greta jumped over the rail and landed next to the door. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “That whole ‘interpretive dance school for nudists’ story couldn’t hold up forever,” she tossed back at me.
That, in a nutshell, was my problem with Greta. I liked her too much and we got along too well. She fell into the father-daughter role easily and could make it seem so normal when it definitely isn’t. She accepted me. Even when she snarked about my lifestyle, her complaints were usually voiced as lighthearted teasing.
If we were a real family, when I grew old, Greta would have never sent me to an old folks’ home; she would have kept me close and
taken care of me. That kind of devotion was scary, especially coming from a cold-blooded killer even more amoral than me. Greta viewed me as a hero growing up, justified my every mistake, and lionized my flaws. She took my dislike of other vampires to another level, too; sometimes, she even hunted them.
Greta opened the front door and one of those fake-looking werewolves was there waiting for us. His hair could have been badly dyed rabbit fur glued over latex rubber skin, and his smooth tan teeth reminded me of a botched resin model kit. He snarled, snapping at Greta.
“Bad dog!” she admonished. “No biscuit!” Greta caught him by the muzzle, snapping his jaws shut with a pop and giggling when he whined. “Can I keep him, Dad?”
Roger likes to tell me I don’t think before I act. Compared to Greta, I’m well-reasoned, insightful, and reserved. The werewolf swiped at Greta with his claws and she laughed, popping him twice in the forehead with her right fist. While he was stunned, she grabbed his neck and pulled the beast down into a headlock.
“Well, can I?” Greta asked insistently.
“I don’t care if he did follow you home,” I said as I grabbed either side of his head and twisted. “You’re not keeping him.” The wolf’s neck broke and Greta let him drop to the floor. He wasn’t dead, but the broken neck would keep him out of the fight.
Behind him, I could see about a dozen of his companions strutting across the street like some kind of inner-city gang, clearly confident that we’d be no problem for them. The four in the middle of the pack seemed to be the ones in charge. Two of those wore cross-studded collars around their hulking necks, their fur a uniform dark brown. The third was larger than the rest, a mottled gray werewolf with a pug-nose muzzle more befitting a bulldog than any wolf I’d ever seen. He hefted a large wooden cross made from two interlocking railroad ties. Next to him, a black wolf with a priest’s collar stared directly at me, rosary beads wrapped around his right paw.
“William?” I asked.
“The flock calls me Reverend.” His voice was light and airy, a complete contrast to the wolf’s hulking black form. The sound didn’t even synch up with his lips, like a badly dubbed kung fu movie or spaghetti western. Maybe he was using some big magic mojo to translate snarls and growls into English for the wolf-speech-impaired. Quite possibly I should have been impressed, but it only served to enhance the goofy unreality that I experience whenever I run into a werewolf.
Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires Page 52