Real Vampires: When Glory Met Jerry

by Gerry Bartlett

  “You don’t understand. It is not my place to tell you why or how, but he needs more blood. Human blood. He has been taking yours from you when you are unaware. This time you need to offer to let him drink from you. It’s the only way to save him.” Fergus sighed and sat on the foot of the bed. He’d tossed a sheet over Jeremiah’s hips since there were no wounds below them. Now he stared into my eyes.

  “I don’t have the knack to make you forget things like Jeremiah does. But know this. If you will lie next to him and offer your wrist, where your blood flows through your veins, he will smell it. It will make him wake, or at least hunger for it. His instinct to drink will take over. Or at least I hope it will.” He rubbed his face with his hands.

  “Drink? My blood?” I swallowed and eased away from Jeremiah. I knew now what Fergus was asking. My stomach lurched. I couldn’t…

  “Please. Listen to me.” Fergus started to reach for me but I held up my hands to stop him. “You saw his fangs. This is how he survives, Gloriana. It will heal him. Let him take your blood from your vein if he can and he will be all right, I know it. Can you do that for him?”

  I jumped from the bed and scampered to stand in the doorway. Fergus’s words ran through my mind. Taking it from you unaware. He will hunger for it. “Instinct to drink.” My blood. Dear God in Heaven. And finally? The knack to make you forget things. My heart raced and I wanted to do the same. I would run and keep going until I was far away from this madness. Yes, I’d seen those fangs. They were long, lethal things that could rip through skin. The men had certainly done it to each other. I saw the evidence lying on the bed, Jeremiah was so still.

  “What is he?” I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. I couldn’t stop.

  Fergus stared at me, his eyes bleak. “He is one of the undead, a blood drinker.”

  “No, you cannot mean it.” I had heard of such things but they were always associated with evil, demons. Jeremiah wasn’t like that. He had seemed vital, warm, alive! I couldn’t understand… “I know that since I’ve been here I’ve seen things that I don’t understand, Fergus. Also, I’ve heard stories about such monsters. The people in the theater love to sit around with their drinks and tell such tales. Make you have nightmares.” I looked away. This was impossible.

  And yet I’d seen more things tonight that I couldn’t explain with what Master Shakespeare had called the logical mind. Oh, how he loved to play with fantastical images. Dreams, he called them. This was no dream. Or even a nightmare. I was standing here, the floor cold under my bare feet. The man lying on the bed nearby was so still. I watched closely but his chest wasn’t moving, not with even a breath. I could swear he was already dead. Fergus was giving me a look that dared me to be brave enough to save a man who’d been kind to me. A man who had rescued me from starvation or worse--whoring in alleys for pennies.

  Fergus was solemn, his gaze seeming to probe my mind. “You were starving when Jeremiah brought you here. He was gentle with you. Others, like Lord Summers, wouldn’t be so thoughtful of your feelings. They would use you cruelly.” So he had seen what had gone on in the coach window after all.

  “Jeremiah got something from me in return, you know.” I was sick of these mind readers. I turned my back on him, my face hot. I’d given my body to Jeremiah freely, of course. Whore. No, blood whore.

  “You may leave if you wish, Gloriana. I can go out on the street and find a stranger to give him blood. It won’t be pretty. I’ll probably have to knock someone in the head first.” Fergus stood and walked past me. “Put on your clothes. I’ll give you some gold since I won’t see you starve.”

  “You’d let me go?” I glanced back at Jeremiah. Could I really leave him like that? He was going to die. Or maybe some stranger would be sacrificed to save him. “Wait. You say he’s been taking my blood and I didn’t know it. So it doesn’t hurt or kill me if I give him my blood?”

  “I’m sure it hurts when it happens.” Fergus picked up my fine silk dress, discarded on the floor, and began to fold it. “But he can make you forget things. It’s a skill his kind has. He has made you forget many things, Gloriana. It’s not something I admire in him.”

  “You aren’t one of them then. What are you?” I watched him pick up my petticoats and fold them as well. Was he planning to pack them for me? Or throw them in the fire if I refused to help his master?

  “A shape-shifter. I can turn into many different animals at will. You saw my cousin Bran turn into a hawk. I can do that. Or—”

  “A black cat!” I knew he’d done that. The cat I couldn’t find. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, that was me. I am tasked with protecting Jeremiah during the day while he sleeps. His kind dies at sunrise, wakes at sunset. They are vulnerable to attack during the daylight hours. So they hire shifters like me and my cousin to protect them. If someone came in to harm him I could become something much more deadly than a house cat in an instant. Believe me.”

  Oh, I did. Hadn’t Bran changed in a moment and flown away? I still had trouble believing it. I sat on a hard chair, overwhelmed and yet seeing all the things I hadn’t understood falling into place. “Robert MacDonald is one of those blood drinkers as well.”

  “Aye. The Campbells and MacDonalds are neighboring clans and both are the same. It is why they are so pitted against each other. They live forever and have bitter histories. Things have happened between them that they cannot and will not forget.” Fergus stopped his housekeeping and stared at me. “While we are talking, Jeremiah is lying there, perhaps finally coming to the end of his long life. I have to do something for him. It is my duty. And he has become my friend. I want to help him. If you will not go to his aid, get out of my way and let me find someone who can.” He frowned. “But these are our secrets, Gloriana. You cannot tell anyone what we are.”

  “Who would believe me? I would be treated as a madwoman if I started raving about men who change into birds and monsters who dance attendance on our king.” I gasped. “Does he know? Is he one as well?”

  “King James? Nay.” Fergus shook his head. “Enough talk, Gloriana. Jeremiah needs help now. We cannot delay another moment.”

  I walked back into the bedchamber and stared down at Jeremiah. Was he breathing? I didn’t think so. Perhaps he was already gone. I bit back a sob. He’d certainly saved me but saving him meant allowing him to sink those horrible fangs into my skin, perhaps tear it open as I’d seen him do MacDonald’s during that horrid fight. Fergus was at my back and he laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. I was shaking and nothing would calm me.

  “We’re running out of time, Gloriana. Stay and do what needs doing or get you gone. I must act quickly now.” Fergus squeezed my shoulder, clearly urging me to choose Jeremiah’s well-being no matter my qualms.

  I staggered then ran from the room to throw up, heaving over a bucket next to the fire until my stomach was empty. With Fergus’s eyes on me, I wiped my mouth with a clean cloth then picked up a jug of wine and drank deeply. False courage. But I couldn’t do this with a clear head and I knew it.

  “Stop. If your blood is full of wine, it will not heal him as well as he needs with such serious wounds.” Fergus wrested the jug away from me. “Does this mean you will help him?”

  “Aye.” I used his own word, the Scottish one for yes, then stumbled toward the bedchamber again. I wasn’t drunk, only wished I were. I couldn’t let a man die, not even one who was obviously not human. A monster. Yes, he must be. But a kind one. And one who could make my body feel things it had never felt before. I shook my head. Foolish to think of pleasure now when I had pain ahead of me.

  “Lie close to him. He must smell your blood. I must cut you so he can sense your fresh human blood. He says your blood is special. No reason why, but he fancies it.” Fergus held a dagger and stayed close to me. To stop me if I changed my mind? I didn’t doubt it.

  “Hand me the knife. You will not cut me.” I glared at the shape-shifter. Impossible that such a thing even existed. But it ce
rtainly explained the black cat. I had seen his cousin change with my own eyes. Obviously the undead could change shapes as well since MacDonald had flown away into the night. Oh, God, why hadn’t I run and never looked back? Then I stared down at Jeremiah, so still, so pale and yet so handsome. He looked like a man, not a monster, as he lay there. My hand trembled but I was not giving up on this.

  “Give me the knife!” I climbed up on the bed when Fergus slapped it into my palm. Whatever Fergus saw or didn’t see as I tried to get where Jeremiah could put his mouth on my wrist, didn’t matter. I wanted this over and done. I might be wasting my time. With one hand on Jeremiah’s chest, I could tell his heart had slowed and perhaps stopped. I was lying on a dead man. I sniffled but stayed the course.

  “Slash your wrist and rub some of your blood on his upper lip. That should make him stir. Then put your vein against his mouth. His instincts should do the rest. Unless…” Fergus cleared his throat. “Unless we’re too late.”

  “You said his kind live forever.” I had certainly heard that. “So he must have unusual strength. Say a prayer, Fergus.” There was no movement under me as I sliced my wrist and blood welled. It hurt but I ignored the pain. I handed the knife back to Fergus then ran my wrist across Jeremiah’s upper lip, just under his nose. It seemed almost disrespectful to wipe my blood on him this way until I saw his nostrils flare.

  “There. Do you see it? He smells it. Lean in, Gloriana. Offer him your vein. Do it now!” Fergus shoved me forward until I fell on Jeremiah, my arm hitting his shoulder.

  I’m sure the shifter heard the same growl I did. To my horror large fangs grew in Jeremiah’s mouth while his arms wrapped tight around me. I was trapped against him.

  “Fergus!” I couldn’t help it, I struggled. But one of Jeremiah’s hands tangled in my hair, keeping me still. I was unable to move as he grabbed my bloody wrist. His eyes stayed closed but his mouth opened and his nose quivered. He inhaled deeply before he angled his head to take my vein. I closed my eyes when he suddenly struck. Pain, sharp and undeniable, made me gasp. I couldn’t help it as I tried to wrench my arm away. It wasn’t to be. I was well and truly captured as he pierced my skin and drew blood. I heard him groan in what must be satisfaction before he swallowed.

  My stomach clenched. How could he do this? Drink from a human? It was a sin, an abomination. I wasn’t a religious person and couldn’t remember ever setting foot in a church, but it seemed that only a creature from hell would take another’s blood like this. I pushed against him with my free arm, desperate to get away from him. He held me even tighter and kept drinking, pulling on my vein and swallowing, over and over again. The room darkened. Was I the one bound to die this night?

  “Jeremiah, stop!” Fergus shouted. He pried his master’s hands off of me then shook him, squeezing Jeremiah’s jaw with his fingers. “Let her go before you kill her, damn you.”

  I realized I might be able to crawl away if he would just take those bloody fangs from my wrist. Bloody. Laughter burst out of me. Was I mad indeed?

  I found myself suddenly free.

  “Get away from him while you can, Gloriana.” Fergus gestured and I hurried to do as he bid, pulling my hair from Jeremiah’s grip until my eyes watered. I crawled off the bed. Gods, but I was weak. The room dipped and swayed when I tried to stand. I fell to the floor.

  “Fergus!” I wanted to get up but there was no help for it. Spots danced in front of my eyes then the world disappeared.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke with the same empty feeling I’d had in the theater. But I wasn’t backstage at the Globe, I was in Jeremiah’s bed. Thank God there was no sign of that monster. I thought to run but even moving the furs seemed beyond me. Little wonder. The creature, whatever he was, had sucked out most of my blood. Dear God. Why hadn’t I run when I had the chance?

  Because you have nowhere to go. That stark truth couldn’t be denied. I had nothing, was nothing. I wanted to bury my face in the pillow and weep. But what good would that do? No, I needed strength and I smelled roast beef, the aroma making my mouth water. If only I could get to it.

  “I thought the smell might bring you ’round.” Fergus stood next to the bed, a plate in his hand. “Can you come to the table? Or will you eat here in the bed?”

  “I want out of this bed. Let me see how I manage.” I took a breath then threw back the furs. I still wore only Jeremiah’s shirt. There was nothing for it but to pretend this shape-shifter was no gentleman but merely a servant, trained to ignore the bad behavior of his employer. He did avert his eyes as the shirt slid up to my thighs.

  “I’ll put this on the table. Call for me if you want my help. There’s the chamber pot if you need it.” He hurried out the door.

  I managed to stand then swayed with the room. Damn Jeremiah Campbell. I’d thought him so kind, so gentle, feeding me and seeing to my pleasure. His pleasure as well of course. Oh, yes. All so he could take my blood. Dear God, sucking it from my vein like a damned leech. Yes, that was what he was. Preying on innocent victims. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t felt the pull at my own wrist. My legs shook, threatening to collapse under me.

  But I was determined to leave that bed where Jeremiah had used me. I made it to the doorway and grasped the frame, the smell of food drawing me closer. When Fergus saw me there, he hurried to my side and helped me to a chair. The plate he placed in front of me held rare roast beef, potatoes and bread. There was a mug of ale as well. I picked up a knife and cut a piece of meat with a shaking hand. I hesitated, needing to ask a question before I could take a bite.

  “Where is he?”

  “It’s daylight outside. He’s locked in his room, dead to the world.” Fergus pushed the mug of ale closer when I stuffed the bite into my mouth and chewed. “Careful, lass. I know you need food, but eat too fast and you’ll sicken.”

  I swallowed, furious that he could think to give me advice when he’d pushed me to sacrifice myself mere hours ago. “I am already sick. From what that man did to me.” I tried to swallow another bite but couldn’t. Instead I turned and lost what little I’d managed to get down. Of course clever Fergus had placed a bucket there, just in case.

  He got up and brought me a clean cloth he’d dipped in fresh water. “I’m that sorry, lass. It’s a vampire’s way. He must have blood to live, you see. You are clean and pretty. He was drawn to you right away, he told me.”

  “Vampire. That’s what you call his kind.” I wiped my face and hands then sipped the ale cautiously. “Am I to be flattered that he wanted me? I suppose my blood is to his taste as well.”

  “Yes, he says it is something special. Unlike any he has had before.” Fergus looked away at that, staring into the fire.

  I slammed my mug onto the table. “Is that so?” I would have run from the room but doubted I could even stand. “By all that is holy, I am a high treat then.” And just like that my anger turned to despair. What was to become of me? I was as trapped as a rabbit in a snare. Weak, my stomach heaving at the smell of the food in front of me now, I had no hope of escaping.

  “Perhaps you should go back to bed.” Fergus stared down at me then handed me a handkerchief.

  I realized I was crying. My silence turned into sobs as he helped me to my feet. When my legs wouldn’t hold me, big strong Fergus picked me up and carried me back to bed. He laid me down gently, drawing the furs up to my chin.

  I turned my face into the pillow, grateful that it no longer smelled like the man who’d wooed me for his own use. What was I to do? The shape-shifter’s hand landed on my back then there was a quiet sound. A purr? I rolled over and saw what I suspected. Dear God, but he’d changed into that black cat so quickly. There was no denying I’d fallen into a strange world here. I took a shuddery breath.

  “May I..?” I reached out tentatively as he stared at me with those golden eyes that saw and knew too much. I stroked his soft black fur until he pushed his head against my face. It was comforting. I wiped my wet cheeks with his handke
rchief and closed my eyes. His warm body curled against me, his tail brushing softly across my chin, I sighed and finally relaxed.

  What would happen when I woke and it was dark again? I couldn’t imagine it and didn’t want to think past this moment. For now I would rest and try to regain my strength. Because I was not going to be Jeremiah’s victim. Oh, no. We would have to come to terms if he thought to take my blood again. I swore to that. He would pay and pay dearly for using me.

  “What will happen now, Jeremiah?” Fergus sounded angry.

  I kept my eyes closed, desperate to hear the answer.

  “Did she eat? Stir at all?” Jeremiah’s deep voice at least sounded concerned. Pretense or did he care if he killed me with his thirst?

  “She woke but could not eat. You were greedy and took too much. It’s a wonder you didn’t kill her.” Fergus must be next to the bed. To keep me safe? I didn’t doubt that his loyalty lay with Jeremiah. If the master demanded more blood from me now, what would Fergus do?

  “I was out of my head because of my wounds. It won’t happen again. Move out of the way.” Jeremiah was clearly issuing orders.

  I opened my eyes. Jeremiah stood next to the bed, Fergus behind him. Of course the master looked as if all was right with his world. He wore one of his white shirts and pantaloons with high boots. His dark hair was clubbed back and he’d shaved. I’d expected him to still show the effects of that fight from the night before but all his cuts and bruises had disappeared. Magic? Or the healing power of my blood? That thought made me shudder.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Gloriana.” Jeremiah sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “Don’t I?” I grabbed a heavy candlestick next to the bed and heaved it at his head. It hit him with a satisfying thump and opened a wound on his forehead.

  He held up his hands when I followed with slaps and a pillow. “I deserve that and worse. I know it.”