by Lund, S. E.
"Fate," I say, tears in my eyes as I think of him as a small child hoping to meet me one day, knowing that his real mother and father couldn't raise him to protect his role in some predetermined destiny foretold by prophecy.
I struggle to sit up and he helps me, fluffing up the pillows behind me. I examine his face and he does look like me in a way, with his dark, straight hair and hazel eyes. He smiles at me and he even has dimples. Our mother's dimples.
He takes my hand and squeezes it and I can see into his mind. He saw me at the same recital where Michel met me in London. He felt so excited to finally see me in real life and after the concert, he and the Rhys family came backstage to meet me. I don't remember the meeting because I met so many people that night, but he remembered it.
'Sister,' he thought to himself. 'One who will live,' for he knew even then that Sarah would die before she reached age thirty.
I look over at the fireplace and see Julien leaning on it, his head in his hand, staring out the window. Across from him, Michel stands, looking out at the cityscape.
How can I fight the three of them, all of them wanting me in their own way?
"Give me the bottle."
I hear a muffled sound from Michel and he turns his back to me, covering his eyes. Julien turns toward me and just watches as Dylan takes the bottle and pulls out the cork stopper. He hands it to me, exhaling loudly.
"Thank you."
I drink.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"To witness two lovers is a spectacle for the gods."
Goethe
Dylan takes me to the SCU stasis tanks once before we return to Davis Cove. He shows me where they keep Soren and the Twelve so that I know he's really imprisoned and is unable to hurt me.
The chamber where all the Council prisoners are kept is deep beneath the ground beside the SCU's main offices near the waterfront in Boston. The entire block is one big cement warehouse that used to house vampires found guilty of crimes under the Treaty. All of the tanks failed after the second fall of red rain, the plague eating away all the plastic in the tanks so that the vampires emerged, recovering once the gel leaked out of their bodies. It was impossible for the few techs and guards who monitored the warehouse to fight them and all two hundreds of them escaped. Just one more threat for the Council to manage.
Now, the only residents of the huge chamber are Soren and the Twelve, kept in cement tanks filled with tank gel. They use all their reserves of energy and all their powers just to keep the infection from my blood at bay. There's nothing left over to actually animate so they're as good as in stasis. Now, the aqueous silver gel infuses their system, and they are effectively in a kind of purgatory. They are probably conscious only of the battle they are waging to keep the infection from taking over completely and killing them.
The Council's only hope is that the infection and the stasis gel will keep them in suspended animation until Council scientists can find a way to destroy them completely.
We walk down the narrow paths between rows and rows of crumbled stasis tanks, the cavernous underground facility like a huge parking lot, dimly lit using lanterns fueled with animal fat that has been processed into oil. Here and there are old computer monitoring stations, with blank screens, and melted casings. There's no energy to run them. The Council is working on setting up solar power systems, but as with everything in this new world, it's slow going.
"Here they are," the guard says and leads us to a special room set off from the others. The tanks in which Soren and the Twelve rest are different from the normal stasis tanks. They're made of cement and look like crypts with glass covers. Soren floats naked in the tank, his pale skin almost glowing, his white hair floating like weeds in water. He's really quite terrifying even in suspended animation, with his perfect musculature and height. His eyes are sewn shut.
"Why are his eyes sutured?"
"He kept opening them. They figure it's an involuntary motion, but it was bothering the guards to have his eyes open. They felt like he was watching them."
I walk down the row of tanks that hold the Twelve and they are similarly entombed in the stasis gel, floating like they're sleeping. Angels, fallen to earth – whatever that means. I still don't buy the Biblical explanation. To me, there's a scientific answer to this.
Council scientists haven't found a way to kill Soren and the others yet and with the plague ravaging the civilized world, it's extremely difficult to work around its effects. So much of our modern technology relies on plastics and fossil fuels. Scientists are busy finding workarounds, but it's very slow and tedious. Everything is a huge effort.
Council scientists didn't really believe Soren and the Twelve were fallen angels and what they designed to work on Ancients was not powerful enough to destroy them. Dylan is determined to keep trying and so am I. I'm going to start back at Boston U in January and I'll keep working part-time at the SCU to help out on cases. Only a few stalwart professors continue to hold classes – primarily those that will help develop new technology to replace the old, which relied on fossil fuels. While Dylan works with scientists at MIT to perfect the technology used to infect Soren and the Twelve, I'll work with Council scientists trying to find a way to cure vampires of our need for blood. If we can understand it fully, we may be able to do it. What makes us immortal is also an important area of research that will benefit not just existing vampires, but all of humanity.
That's for the future. I'm just not ready to return to real life yet.
We leave the SCU and take a horse and cart along the back roads to Davis Cove. The Council is working on getting an old steam locomotive up and running so there's some kind of transportation along the old Amtrak line that threads its way along the eastern seaboard, but it's not ready yet.
I stay with Dylan at a different cottage in Davis Cove – one that is better designed and fixed up after the ravages of the plague. We're close to the Rhys family and far from Boston where Michel and Julien are. Under his tutelage, I drink blood and learn to deal with the cravings, determining how long I can go without feeling out of control and how much I need to keep cravings at bay.
Nothing diminishes the craving, except blood.
I drink from the glass bottle filled with blood, and feel immediate pleasure and then relief but soon, all too soon, the craving returns and builds over the course of a day or so. By the end of twenty-four hours, I'm almost beside myself with bloodlust and even the older woman with shabby stockings and floppy grey hair who comes to clean the house looks appealing.
Dylan sees me staring at her one morning as we're reading the latest edition of the Davis Cove Register, printed using some old hand-powered printing press. We've had our breakfast and are sitting in the warmth of the kitchen with the morning sun streaming in through UV shaded glass.
I'm trying to push my boundaries to see when I lose control and I can't help but notice her bending over a pail as she mops the entry floor. I can smell her blood from where I sit and it smells so much better than the blood in the bottle. It smells warm. I can hear her heartbeat and it's so inviting. I want to bite her flesh and my teeth elongate the way they do when I drink from the bottle.
I have yet to actually bite a human and drink their blood. Dylan promised to let me decide when I was ready for such an event. There are still volunteers who want to be bitten and there will be several willing, when I'm psychologically ready.
"Don't wait too long," Dylan advises. "You need the human connection of a blood feed to keep your humanity from fading."
I feel ready now but the cleaning lady is not a volunteer. Dylan must see my face change into hunter mode and he takes my hand and shakes his head. He pulls me out of the kitchen, and I keep my face hidden so she doesn't see me and freak out. We go into the bedroom and he hands me a bottle and I drink it down in nearly one pull I'm so in need.
"You really must feed on a human," he says to me, watching me as I finish the blood, sucking down every last drop. "Don't be so stubborn."
&n
bsp; I wave him away. "I will, I will."
"When? If I wasn't here, I suspect you'd have had her already and who knows if you'd be able to stop?"
"OK," I say, annoyed that he's right. "Soon."
There's just a part of me that wants to postpone that first real feed as long as I can. It seems too intimate to do with a complete stranger. Even I know how sexual it will become and that just scares me. There have only been two men I've ever really been sexual with – that I've really wanted.
Michel and Julien.
I haven't seen either of them for two weeks. I've spent this time trying to figure out what I'm going to do about them.
I love them both. They love me, each in their own particular way. How can I choose between them? How can I be with one and not with the other? Whose heart do I break besides my own by choosing one over the other?
I lay on my bed and Dylan leaves me alone, closing the door behind him. He knows that after a feed, I have to try to deal with the arousal in some way and so he gives me time and space.
With the blood flowing through my system, I'm so aroused and I can't help but think of both Michel and Julien. Where are they even now?
Is Michel sitting at the piano in his cottage in Ipswich with a glass of blood, playing his sad Chopin piece, wondering how I am? Is Julien staring out the window of his warehouse in Boston, thinking of our time in Davis Cove, wishing he were here with me?
As I fight my desire, I write a separate note to each of them with my decision. I'll send them in the post tomorrow. There's a new pony express to take written messages between cities along the coast. Now, everything old is new again. I grew up in an age of iPhones and wireless internet and instantaneous communication. Now, we use HAM radios from the pre-WWI era, and pony express. We haven't even got the telegraph system up and running yet. All the wiring used plastics.
My decision isn’t the kind I want sent over the radio.
A few days later, I'm alone in Davis Cove, walking the beach. It's a cold evening and I'm dressed in a thick wool sweater and old leather boots, a woolen scarf around my neck against the cold wind that blows in off the ocean. Dylan's going to try to find the formula for Blackstone's day-walking drug because I don't want to drink the waters of life – not yet. I will take Blackstone's drug so I won't be trapped inside during the day, but it may be a while. Things are so disrupted because of the plague.
Dylan's gone to stay in Boston for the next week, staying at his apartment so he can attend a few lectures at MIT where some stalwart professors have decided to keep the institution running despite the lack of power. He leaves me alone with a phalanx of guards to watch over me and an icebox filled with bottles of blood, one for each of the five days he'll be away.
I walk along the shore, aware of the two guards trailing behind a hundred yards away. Ahead, I see a figure walking towards me. The moon is out and shines on the sea foam, making it glow. As he nears, I see him more clearly and once he's close enough, I see his smile. Such a brilliant smile.
He says nothing, just comes to me, wrapping his arms around me, kissing me deeply, squeezing me so tightly I think I'll break, except I'm a vampire now and bloody hard to kill.
"Julien," I say when he pulls away. "I'm so glad you decided to come."
"How could I ever deny you anything?"
He kisses me again, and when we connect, I feel his need and it ignites my own.
"I want you right now," he whispers in my ear, pulling me against his body. "Right here on the sand. Tell your guards to fuck off."
"I'm not getting sand in my," I say and laugh. "My… you know…"
He grins at me. "Your you know?" he says and laughs with me. "Eve…" He nuzzles my neck, his mouth against my ear. "It's your pussy," he whispers. "And I missed your sweet little pussy so much, you just can't imagine."
"Just my… pussy?" I say, smiling back, still awkward with that word.
"You and your pussy. It’s a package deal," he says and wags his eyebrows.
I take his hand and pull him back towards the cottage.
"I want you in a warm bath with me and then in my bed. And later, in front of the fire, and then maybe on the couch."
"Gotta love a new vampire," he says and shakes his head. "Insatiable, are you? It must have been difficult stuck here with only your brother as company."
"It's been wonderful in one way, but hell in another."
We walk back to the cottage, hand in hand, and he tells me about the goings-on at the SCU where he's working, trying to get it set up again and working despite the lack of power and technology, but his voice is a bit shaky and I know it's lust. When we arrive, the guards return to their positions around the property and Julien and I go inside. There's a palpable sexual tension between us as both of us know what's going to happen.
I go to the bathroom and pour one more bucket of hot water from the fireplace into the bath, pouring in some of the sandalwood bath salts. Julien comes into the bathroom and I turn to face him. He stands a foot away from me and looks me over from head to toe.
"I was afraid I'd never be with you again," he says. "I was afraid I'd never be released from the compulsion. I was afraid you'd choose Michel. Or neither of us."
"I considered throwing you both over for celibacy, but that's just not in the cards."
He smiles and runs his fingers over my cheek and then down over the curves of my breasts, touching the crucifix Michel gave me.
"That thing safe?"
I bend my head and look at it, touching it with a finger. "Yes, Dylan assures me it's no threat to us. If there's any residue left, we're immune."
"Do you have to wear that?" he says, touching Michel's slave collar.
"Does it bother you?"
He steps closer and puts his arms around me, pulling me against him. "Huge old green-eyed monster here, Eve. You should already know."
I sigh and start to take it off, but he stops me. "No," he says, shaking his head. "Forget it. I know it has meaning for you."
"Thank you," I say and leave the collar on.
He starts undressing me, and I hear his breathing increase, I feel his arousal rise as he strips my clothes off, piece by piece. I undress him as well and when he comes to my panties, he kneels down and strips them off. I step out of them and he's face to face with my hips.
"Oh, fuck, you're shaved…" He looks up at me with such lust, it takes my breath away. "But its time for another one. I know just the person who'd love to do it."
Then he runs his fingers over the brand Michel gave me.
"He branded you? Possessive bastard," he says, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry if it bothers you. The shaving and the brand were part of the contract."
"No," he says and shakes his head. "No, I would have done the same. Besides, the fleur-de-lis is the symbol of my house as well, so technically, it could be mine." He kisses me there and then stands up so I can finish undressing him. Soon we're both naked in each other's arms and I feel drunk on lust as we kiss, the pressure of his erection against my belly making me almost dizzy.
"Oh, God, I want you so much," he says.
"I want you so much," I whisper, almost choking with desire. But I turn him around and push him towards the tub. "First things first."
"Women," he says, all mock-angry. He steps in and sits in the water and then I step in after him and submerge. There's too much water in the tub and some spills over onto the floor.
"Oh, damn," I say and start to stand, but he stops me.
"Screw it," he says and pulls me over to him. I lie on top of him and he slides down, his knees opening so that I'm between them. We lie in the warm water, kissing, our kisses growing more intense, our connection making it all the more powerful. I sit up and hand him a bar of soap and he makes a stab at lathering up, then starts to slide his soapy fingers between my thighs, and I have to close my eyes because it feels so good.
He takes the razor from the shelf by the tub and starts to shave me.
"Put yo
ur foot up on the side of the tub," he says, lifting my foot and placing it on the side. He shaves me, his brow furrowed in concentration, then rinses me off and checks his work. "Perfect." He kisses me there, his hands on my hips and I close my eyes, barely able to wait for the bath to finish.
He lathers his hands again and stands up, washing my shoulders, but then he shakes his head.
"Fuck it," he says and throws the soap down, rinsing me off and then pulling me out of the tub and into the bedroom where a fire is glowing in the hearth, candles lit around the room. We're both still wet as we fall onto the bed, our bodies sliding against each other. We need no words for our connection ensures both of us know what the other wants.
He wants me to feed from him. He knows it will be my first real feed and because it's vampire blood, it will be even more intense than if I was feeding on a mortal. I push him onto the bed and he sighs heavily, his arms outstretched above his head. I lie on top of him and kiss him briefly, but I know what he wants and I'm going to give it to him because I want it, too.
I run my mouth over his chest, nipping softly at both nipples and then trailing my tongue over his hips, down his belly to his groin where his erection lies thick and hard, the head wet with his fluid. I run my lips and tongue up and down his length several times and then suck him into my mouth, sliding over the head while my tongue caresses the rim.
Then, I move off him, spreading his thighs and he moans with pleasure as he waits.
I bite him, my fangs extended, and it feels so damn good to finally bite someone, that I shudder along with him. I suck at the wound on his groin, my hair brushing his scrotum, one hand on his shaft. I could make him come like this, just sucking the wound, stroking him, but I want him inside me right away while I'm still high on his blood.