The Vampire's Kiss

by Raven Hart

  Will looked at me as though seeing me for the first time. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? You had plenty of chances.”

  “Your mother forbade me.”

  “Liar! Why would she do that?”

  “She claimed the price that Hugo demanded for giving you eternal life was that she never tell you of your real father.”

  Will looked far away, as if he was weighing the veracity of my claim against the events of his life. “Why? Why was he so afraid of you? He’s afraid of you even now.”

  “Because this is the great William Cuyler Thorne,” Eleanor said without irony.

  “What’s so great about him, then?” Will sneered. The young tough was back.

  “He has dared to take on the dark lords,” Eleanor said.

  “How?”

  I might have told him how I had been smuggling peace-loving vampires out of Europe and into the Americas for nigh on to two hundred years. That by doing so, I had cost the European sires the power that builds from their offspring feeding on humans.

  I also could tell him that I was about to abandon this smuggling mission out of disgust that the most beloved of my own kind had betrayed me. But now was not the time, not when I had a chance to gain his help in rescuing Renee.

  “Never mind that.” I stepped forward and embraced him—I couldn’t help myself—then I grasped his shoulders and held him apart from me, my face inches from his. “For now, just know that I am your father.”

  Will was clearly conflicted. He didn’t return my embrace, but he didn’t push me away either.

  “How is Renee?” I asked him. When I saw his face soften at the mention of her name, I felt a glimmer of hope rise up in my chest. Did this monster who used to be my human child have any measure of compassion? Did he who had murdered dozens of peaceful vampires in a bioterror attack feel anything other than bloodlust? I remembered how he had murdered Sullivan, the trusted human of my closest western ally, by tearing his throat out. Could the same devil who did those things care about the welfare of a single human child?

  “Renee is fine. For now.”

  “What do you mean, for now?”

  “They have…plans for her.”

  I wanted to bellow with rage. At that moment I didn’t care to imagine what vile use they planned for my dear child. But I clung to Will’s having said she was fine—and the hint in his voice that he reserved some modicum of compassion for her.

  Did I dare appeal to my son’s humanity? When Reedrek had tempted Jack with the life of a dark blood drinker, I had bet my life that Jack still possessed the humanity that had inspired me to give him everlasting life all those years ago. And my undead offspring hadn’t disappointed me. He hadn’t “gone over to the dark side,” as he’d put it, but rather had helped me save Savannah from the menace that was Reedrek. I decided to use the same appeal to Will.

  “Help me get her back,” I implored him. “I know that you care about her. I know that she’s special to you.”

  “You must be putting me on,” he said, an unconvincing sneer on his face. “She’s nothing to me.”

  My heart sank and then hardened. If he would not help me out of love, perhaps he would be motivated out of hate. Was he his father’s son after all? I thought of all the things I could tell him about Hugo and his mother and how to begin.

  “I want to know why you left Mother and me to that fiend Hugo,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

  “I didn’t leave you. Until the moment you arrived in Savannah I thought both of you had died the night Reedrek made me a blood drinker. But before he spirited me away, he gave your mother to Hugo to be made into a vampire. You must know the rest.”

  “They waited until I reached adulthood and then they came for me,” he said in a hushed tone. “And when they did, Hugo slaughtered James and Juney right in front of me even as my mother begged for their lives.”

  I shuddered. “Believe me, my son, if I had known that you still lived, I would have protected you with my undead life until God himself had seen fit to take your mortal soul.”

  “Well aren’t you the hero? And then I suppose you would have ridden on a white horse to my mother’s rescue and freed her from Hugo.”

  “I would have killed him, and that would have freed your mother, yes. I now believe she would not have let me.”

  “What are you talking about? She only pretends to go along with him. She hates him.”

  “Are you so sure?” I asked. “While you were unconscious from the plague in Savannah, I tried to kill him. After I allowed you to feed from my veins to see if my blood would cure you, we all assumed that I would be infected. I went to bite Hugo and infect him as well, but Diana stopped me.”

  Will’s face registered shock at this news. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to make sense of it. “She was probably afraid not to come to his aid. She’s terrified of him.”

  “I can’t imagine why. Hugo’s bond as her sire came to an end after two hundred years; that’s how it is with all our kind. She’s only drawn power from him since then. In truth, she’s more powerful than he is. If you had been conscious when they fought in my plantation house, you could not doubt it. As Jack would say, she wiped the floor with him, and I have the repair bills to prove it.”

  “Expired after two hundred years? They told me that a female vampire’s bond to her sire never expires!”

  “That’s a lie. It works the same as it does for males. After two hundred years, you were both free of him.”

  As Will struggled to process what I told him, it occurred to me that Diana and Hugo had done just what I had with Jack all those years. They had kept Will in the dark about the rules of the vampire game. In my case, I had been trying to protect my offspring. Hugo’s little family had out-and-out lied, and their motive was more sinister. Diana and Hugo had used Will’s innocence to control him.

  I explained to Will how during sex female vampires draw power from a male blood drinker’s seed in exchange for their forfeiture of the power of procreation. “They told you none of this?” I asked.

  “No,” he said bitterly.

  “And you learned nothing from others of our kind? What of the Russian blood drinkers?”

  “I don’t play well with others. Never have,” he said. The punk sneer was back in a flash and was gone just as quickly. “They told me nothing. They were a pretty remote lot for the most part, very independent of one another. Beautiful things, but not social. Suited me just fine.”

  I had seen Will charm his prey in Savannah and charm his way into Renee’s heart for his own ends. But perhaps the charm was only skin deep, something he cultivated to use only when he needed it as a weapon. Despite all my hopes for whatever humanity he might have left, I realized I had no idea what he was capable of.

  “So Mother is stronger than Hugo,” Will said. “She said he would kill us if we tried to run away.”

  “She stayed with him all this time only because she wanted to.”

  “But why has she gone to such great lengths to convince me otherwise?”

  “She wanted both of you. It was the only way she could persuade you to remain in the same place with Hugo, whom you so justifiably hated. I saw the scars on your back when you were ill.”

  “He beat me unmercifully,” Will muttered. “If he weren’t my sire and I wouldn’t die in the killing, I would have sent him to hell by now.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said. “It seems that is one rule they did see fit to share with you, since it benefited them.”

  Will squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. “So many things…are becoming clear now. So much that never made sense before.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that Will had lost his tough working-class accent. I could sense that he was reliving his life in his mind, experiencing earlier memories, painful ones. “Yes, my boy, I would imagine so,” I said soothingly.

  “When I left London for Russia, I begged her to join me. Now I know that she could have come
to me whenever she wanted and left him behind,” he said. “I made several trips back to London to try to get her to come to Russia with me and she refused.”

  Something new and startling must have occurred to him because he looked up at me suddenly and cried out, “My mother couldn’t have been in on the plot to kill me with the plague!”

  “No,” I said, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “If she wanted me dead, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of keeping me with her all those years.”

  “When she found out that Reedrek and Hugo had encouraged you to spread the plague, knowing full well that you would contract it, that’s when she fought Hugo so unmercifully. In her way, I think she loves you.”

  “But not enough to stop him beating and bleeding me all those years. And still she stays with him, knowing that he set me up to rot,” Will said incredulously. “Reedrek and Hugo told me if I carried the plague to California that they would set my mother free, but they knew she was free all along. They said I was immune. Instead Hugo knew I would catch a pox that would have my flesh rotting from my bones.”

  “I think he wanted Diana to himself after all these years,” I said. “He probably always did but didn’t have the courage or the intelligence to get rid of you for good until Reedrek came along with a plan.”

  Will began to pace back and forth. I could feel his anger building as if it were a living thing. His fangs lengthened and his eyes became bloodshot. After a few moments he stopped, balled his fists, and let his head fall back on his shoulders. His bellow of rage reverberated through the cavernous space. Eleanor began to whimper from fear. As for myself, I let my son’s pain and anger wash over me like a toxic rain.

  His thoughts were so intense I could see them in my own mind. I closed my eyes and saw what he was projecting—the image of Hugo tearing into the throats of James and Juney Cecil, the sight of Hugo beating him with a lash, bringing more blood and bits of flesh with every stroke, bleeding him, starving him, isolating him in dank holes in the ground for weeks at a time.

  I took Will’s pain and rage and bonded it to my own until I felt our separate wills forge together as one. Then my scream rose above his. “Enough!” I roared.

  The sound brought him back to himself and the parade of images stopped. Our gazes locked and I stared at him for several moments. “I’ll ask you again,” I said. “Will you help me? Will you help me to defeat them and get Renee back?”

  He began to nod before he spoke. His eyes held not a hint of doubt or weakness.

  “Yes,” he said. “I will help you free Renee from them if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Jack

  I decided it was time for Seth to meet Werm, since I had tapped the Werminator, as he liked to call himself, to help us fight the werewolves. And also because I was in the mood for a good laugh.

  So when sundown rolled around again, and after I’d hopped out of my coffin and showered, I called Seth on his cell phone and gave him directions to Werm’s new place. When I got there, I was impressed with the progress that Werm and the ladies of the evening had made since the last time I saw it. The walls had been painted, the ceiling spackled, and most of the fixtures were in place. In fact, Werm was setting up the bar and uncrating liquor when I walked in.

  “Let me pour you the first drink, Jack,” he said and opened a fresh bottle of my namesake, Jack Daniel’s.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” I took a gulp of whiskey. “Say, are you sure you know how to tend bar?”

  Werm laughed. “C’mon. My mom’s a Savannah society lady, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot there for a minute.” Savannah society ladies are well-known for their alcohol consumption. Whether it’s at a garden club luncheon, a tea party, a bridge game, or a charity social, the first rule of etiquette is that nobody’s glass is ever allowed to be empty. The ladies often stagger away from the soirees tottering on their designer heels, their Sunday hats sitting crooked on their heads.

  “I can mix anything from an appletini to a screaming orgasm,” Werm assured me, “with my stirring arm tied behind my back.”

  “Here’s to screaming orgasms,” I said, raising my glass, “and to leaving the ladies shaken and stirred.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Werm said. He poured a shot for himself, clinked his glass with mine, and gulped it. He was finally starting to drink like a man. When I first met him, he was into sherry—an old lady’s drink, for God’s sake. But the night I screwed up my voodoo ceremony, I’d gotten him to start swilling some real liquor. I was proud of him.

  “The place is coming along real nice,” I said, and poured myself another.

  “Good thing, too, since opening night is tomorrow,” Werm said.

  I did a spit take, spewing a swallow of good whiskey out of my mouth and causing the four girls who were laying linoleum tiles to look my way and giggle. “That’s only one night before the full moon,” I said between coughs.

  “Why? Is there a problem?” He finished the rest of his shot and refilled both our glasses.

  I lowered my voice so the girls couldn’t hear me. “In two nights we need you to go with us to fight the werewolves. I wanted some time to teach you some moves, do some sparring.”

  Werm looked at me blankly and then remembered what I’d said about training. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  “How could you forget? Last time I talked to you, you were afraid a werewolf was going to chew your ass off.”

  “But, Jack, you said the other night that vampires are way tougher than werewolves.”

  I had to start paying closer attention to what I said to this kid. He actually listened to me. I looked at his spindly body. “You’ve got to postpone the opening.”

  “Jack, I can’t. I’ve given out handbills all over town. The girls have been posting it everywhere. We’ve bought ad time on the radio, put the notice in the newspaper—”

  To tell you the truth, Werm didn’t look too disappointed about missing the conflict. In fact, he looked distinctly relieved. He evidently thought that I would let him out of his commitment.

  “Damn. Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just remember to extend your fangs.”

  Werm’s face fell, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his next sip of whiskey. “Uh—okay, Jack, whatever you say.”

  “That’s my boy.” I gave him a guy’s guy slap on the back that nearly caused him to drop the bottle of Jack. About that time the door opened and Seth came in. He got the attention of all four whores, who collectively sat up on their haunches and in unison thrust out their chests.

  As Seth was introducing himself to the ladies, Werm asked, “Do you know that guy?”

  “Yeah, that’s my buddy the werewolf. Don’t sweat it. He’s not going to eat you.”

  Werm relaxed a little. “Good.”

  “You’re too skinny anyway.”

  Werm took a swig straight from the whiskey bottle. “That makes me feel much better,” he squeaked.

  “Hey, man,” I said to Seth as he reached the bar. I sat on one of the mismatched bar stools and patted the one beside me. Seth sat down as Werm seemed to get shorter and shorter behind the bar. If he crouched down any more, he was going to disappear altogether.

  “Seth, this here is Werm,” I said.

  Werm nodded and mumbled something. Seth stared at Werm, who, since the painting and spackling were done, was back to his black leather duds. As usual, Werm jangled with so many silver studs and rings from various piercings, I was surprised he didn’t set off all the metal detectors in the city. Then Seth turned his attention to me, and if looks could kill, I’d be werewolf chow. “So this is Werm, is it?” he said. “The one who’s supposed to back us up in the fight?”

  “Uh-huh. Stand up straight, boy,” I directed Werm. “Let Seth get a look at you.”

  Seth said, “Can I have a shot of that JD? And by the way, son, you’re squeezing that bottle so tight I think it’s going to break right in your hand.”

 
Werm straightened and got a clean shot glass. “Yeah, sure. Uh, you know, sometimes us vampires, we don’t know our own strength.”

  “So true,” I agreed.

  “I’d shake your hand, Werm, but you’ve got too much silver on. I might get a burn.”

  Werm poured Seth’s shot and refilled my glass again. “Jack said it was true what they say about silver and werewolves.”

  “’Fraid so,” Seth said.

  “So how do you kill a werewolf?” Werm asked. Seth nearly choked on his whiskey.

  “That’s not a very friendly question to ask a guy of the fuzzy persuasion right off the bat,” I said. I wasn’t exactly the Emily Post of the undead world, but damn, at least I could be tactful.

  “I’m sorry,” Werm said, “but if I’m going to have you guys’ backs in a fight, don’t you think I need to know a thing like that? I mean, Jack said it was bad form to get a gun with silver bullets.”

  “Jack can always be counted on to know the proper thing to do,” Seth allowed, then took the bottle from Werm and poured himself another.

  “I did, in fact, tell Werm not to pack a gun with silver bullets although I hope Connie plans to do just that. I certainly dropped enough hints to her on that very subject when we talked to her last night.”

  “As well you should,” Seth agreed. “Incidentally, Jack, do you think you could see Connie again before the full moon and talk her out of coming? I don’t want her to see me in wolf skin. And I really don’t want her to see me change. Besides, if things get out of hand, we have to keep her out of danger.”

  “You heard me try to reason with her,” I said. “You’ve known her longer than I have. You know how stubborn she is when she’s made up her mind about something.”

  “Try again. Seriously, Jack. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. If anybody can get through to her, you can. Just give her some sweet talk. She’ll come around.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Actually, I was glad of any excuse to go and talk to Connie and this was a good one. If I was careful about it, I might even get Connie to talk about her relationship with Seth so I could get an idea if she still had feelings for him.