A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3)

by Danann, Victoria

  Within minutes he had finished experimenting to determine range of motion. He could stand up with his back against the wall and step about six inches in either direction side to side. He could slide down the wall into a sitting position, but if he did, it drew the chains attached to his wrists higher so that an extended period of sitting would restrict blood flow and cause the nerve endings in his hands to "go to sleep".

  Having spent the past century learning to be grateful for small favors, he was glad they had left him his jacket.

  "Well," he said to himself and the utter darkness, "you knew it was an insanely dumb idea. And this is what you get for being insanely dumb."

  With that he sank down into a sitting position and wondered how long it would be before he couldn't feel his hands. ***

  CHAPTER_4

  "Here we are. This is the one."

  When the car stopped, Elora jumped out, Blackie right after her.

  "This?" Ram looked doubtful as he came up to where she was blissfully turning in a circle. Her skirt fanned out showing off shapely legs encased in funky, wide-striped knit tights; something she would not have been caught dead wearing when she first arrived in the dimension she now called home.

  She stopped spinning and looked at Ram like he had just interrupted the best dream imaginable. "Do you hate it?"

  "Well, no." Ram began cautiously weighing the odds of being able to disagree agreeably. "I'm no' sayin' that exactly. 'Tis just that, when you said this was the perfect place to raise dogs and elfren, I... suppose I did no' picture anythin' quite like this."

  "Out with it. What are you saying? Mate's privilege. You can tell me."

  He looked around. "It has the look of work without end and, where money is concerned, a surefire bloody, record-breakin' black hole."

  Elora reached down to absently pet Blackie behind an ear. Ram might as well have been able to read her mind.

  "Do no' go askin' that dog what he thinks!"

  Elora looked offended. "I wasn't going to ask the dog!"

  Ram crossed his arms and looked dubious until she smiled sheepishly.

  "Okay I was, but I wasn't going to give him an equal vote."Elora reached down to absently pet Blackie behind an ear. Ram might as well have been able to read her mind.

  "Do no' go askin' that dog what he thinks!"

  Elora looked offended. "I wasn't going to ask the dog!"

  Ram crossed his arms and looked dubious until she smiled sheepishly.

  "Okay. I was, but I wasn't going to give him an equal vote."

  Ram rolled his eyes. "So break it down for me. What is it about this heap that is so appealin' to you?"

  "And that bit about it being a heap was said without prejudice, was it?"

  He shrugged. "I'm givin' you a chance to sell me. Take it or leave it."

  That offer seemed to animate her. "Okay. First, there's all this beautiful emerald green grass."

  He laughed at her and shook his head. "Aye. I had no' heard there's a shortage of that in Ireland."

  "I'm just getting started. We're close to New Forest."

  "Aye. 'Tis on the plus side to be sure."

  "Right. I love the roll to the land. I love that stream down there. I love that tree over there." Ram followed the extended line from her finger to every feature she pointed out, trying to see it from her perspective. "And then there's the house."

  At this point he stopped and gaped at her like she was certifiable.

  "If you are about to suggest that you like anythin' about the buildin' directly behind me, I will be forced to question your sanity. Please tell me that what you are goin' to say next is that the 'house' - and I use that term loosely - must be scraped off and hauled away so that somethin' that resembles a proper home might be built in its place."

  Elora looked stricken. "How can somebody who chose to grow up in a centuries-old, one room hunting cottage, come to a conclusion like that?" The illogic of that was inescapable and, since he had no good explanation, she pressed on. "The stone work couldn't be duplicated today."

  Ram laughed. "Thank Paddy for that. Elora, you are no' serious about this." She looked like the personification of abject disappointment. "You are! How are you seein' makin' this livable for anythin' other than wolves?" He waved in the general direction of the house. Blackie sat and heaved a sigh.

  She brightened a little. "Well..."

  She spent the next half hour going over a detailed plan for renovating the structure, melding the best of old world charm, and modern conveniences. She drew a vivid picture of a happy future alive with flowers, elfren, dogs, and geese although he wasn't sure how she planned to reconcile the last two.

  Truthfully he had known before he ever raised an objection that he would be happy wherever she was. He was more or less just teasing her into making a case. When she had exhausted her ammunition she looked at him expectantly. He saw hope shimmering in her eyes. Because he didn't answer immediately, he saw that hope start to dim a little.

  As he opened his mouth to speak, she said, "I suppose you're going to say that was a stupid story."

  He shook his head. "I was goin' to say that I suppose we will be needin' an architect."

  She started to throw herself into his arms and, stopped, remembering just in time that she was carrying precious cargo. She got as close as she could, considering the well-rounded belly between them, and covered his face and neck with kisses.

  Elora did hire an architect from Derry to draw up plans for renovating the house and building a very fine kennel out of the same stone used to build the house. They decided to stay at the New Forest cottage until the property was ready, reasoning that it would be harder in the future to enjoy the cottage with a small child. They conspired to make the most of their final weeks as just two elves in love. And a dog.

  ***

  CHAPTER_5

  Heaven was running a little later than usual. She was having a classic bad hair day and, even though she could care less what Istvan Baka thought of her hair, it would be unprofessional not to take an extra couple of minutes with her appearance.

  She decided to get a coffee and bagel and eat at her desk. Being late wasn't one of the ways she chose to rattle the boss. There were much more entertaining ways to get under his skin.

  Perhaps she was starting to feel a little guilty about her treatment of Mr. Baka. She was certainly not ready to concede or relent, but she might be ready to cut him a little slack.

  On impulse she put some daisies in a glass milk bottle and brought it along intending to place it on his desk. She saw no reason why the vampire - and she didn't know why she couldn't seem to stop calling him that - didn't deserve to have a little cheer. After all, he carried his burden so silently and with such dignity in the face of the fact that she was relentlessly prickly and unapproachable. It was fifteen minutes after nine when she rushed into the office, shoulder bag stuffed full, breakfast clutched in a paper bag with daisies occupying the other free hand.

  She had planned to go straight to his desk and set the flowers down with a smile. In fact, as she had hurried along the halls a little fantasy had played out in her head about his reaction. He would be shocked by the flowers and even more stunned by her smile. He would, in fact, be speechless and the image of that gave her a pleasant chuckle.

  By the time she opened the door to the office she was eager. But no one was there. In fact the lights hadn't even been turned on. She set her things down on her desk and flipped the switches. Even with the room well lit, it seemed somehow colder and emptier than it should; meaning colder and emptier than usual. Following that thought along its logical path she had to confront an inescapable conclusion that Mr. Baka must add warmth and energy to the space he occupied even if his office mate behaved like a toad.

  She placed the daisies on his desk and exercised her femininity by fooling with them until they looked properly fluffed and optimistic.

  Shaking herself with a slight internal reprimand about how counterproductive and point
less superstition could be, she told herself that anybody could be late once in a while. After all, she had been that very morning. So, opening the folder she'd been working on the day before, she set about tackling the day's scheduled tasks. Now and then she looked up at the wall clock and over at the conspicuously empty desk. Well, perhaps, it was more often than now and then. In fact, she had probably spent more time looking at the clock than looking at the figures she was supposed to be analyzing for feasibility.

  At ten she called his phone number to see if he was sick. There was no answer. She left a message asking if there was something in particular he would like her to do in his absence. She allowed a little more warmth than usual to creep into her tone. When she ended the call she imagined that he had seen her name on his Caller ID and sneered at it, thinking, "Fuck you."

  At eleven she got up and walked over to look out the window as if she expected to see him out on the street feeding pigeons or hailing cabs for the doorman. On the way by his desk she rearranged the daisies one more time. They looked a lot more cheerful than she felt.

  At twelve she called Simon who tried to extinguish alarm.

  "Heaven, I don't mean to sound abrupt or overly dismissive, but Baka is a Project Manager. He has no requirement to report his whereabouts every second of every day to either you or me."

  "Of course not. I know that. It's just that this is very unlike him. He's... precise."

  "Precise?"

  "Yes, I mean..." She was getting flustered and beginning to sound less calm and professional. "He takes a very serious approach to his job, treats it like a mission, like the world depended on the outcome."

  Simon's voice was very soft when he responded. "Maybe it does."

  Something about hearing that said in that way made Heaven want to burst into tears.

  "Director Tvelgar, I'd like to post an official missing person's report. I know something is wrong."

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for a full minute. "Ms. McBride, you know I admire you as a scholar. I'm the one who recommended you for the job, if you remember."

  "Yes."

  "Although I admire the fact that you have an impressive resume for someone your age, psychic talent is not among your skills set if memory serves."

  "Everyone is intuitive to some degree, Simon. You know that."

  He sighed. "Leave it till tomorrow morning. If we haven't seen or heard something by then, we'll start to look around. He may have gone to visit friends."

  "Friends?" She sounded incredulous. As if the idea of Istvan Baka having friends was preposterous.

  "Perhaps Sir Hawking and Lady Laiken."

  "He's not answering his phone and he hasn't returned my call."

  "If there's no word by tomorrow morning, I will consider opening his apartment."

  "Opening his apartment?"

  "Yes."

  "Why can't you do that now? What if he's too sick to answer his phone or let anyone know?"

  Long pause. "Alright. I'll meet you there."

  Heaven was waiting outside Baka's door watching Simon stride purposefully up the hallway carrying a master key. She stepped out of the way to give him access. Knocking on the door drew no more response than either of them expected in their respective heart of hearts. Simon used the key, cracked the door, and said, "Hello", loudly enough to warn anyone within.

  Nothing.

  Simon opened the door further and Heaven scooted by. Everything was neat and its place. The bed was made. Baka's passport was in the top dresser drawer. His toiletries including electric razor and toothbrush were in the bath. Opening the closet door revealed nothing except that, again, everything seemed to be in order.

  "You see?" Heaven said. "Missing."

  "For someone who is famous for detesting her boss, you seem concerned."

  Heaven flushed. "Famous? What do you mean?" People talked about how badly she treated Mr. Baka? Good grief. "I don't detest him. All the time." She looked around again. "What are you going to do?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "If he is out of touch for three days, I will ask someone from the Psychic Division to assist."

  "Do it now."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I'm sorry. I know that sounded... imperious. Please, let's ask one of the psychs to take a peek at the ethers."

  "At this point, it would be an abuse of my power and a possible serious invasion of privacy." Simon looked at her pointedly as if to silently punctuate that men sometimes have good reason to temporarily disappear and keep their activities to themselves.

  Realizing what he suggested, she stood a little straighter. "It's not what you think."

  "Heaven. Forgive me for saying this, but it's not as if you're close to him. There may be quite a lot you do not know."

  "There isn't."

  The Director studied her curiously then softened his tone. "You sound adamant. Why are you so sure you're right?"

  She looked flustered and frustrated. "I just am!"

  "You're sounding childish."

  "You're sounding insensitive."

  "No need for apologies. I can see you're distraught."

  "I'm not distraught nor am I apologizing." Simon arched an eyebrow and Heaven flushed again. "Something. Is. Wrong. I know it."

  "Three days."

  "Tomorrow."

  He locked Baka's door then turned to stare at her, looking like he might reconsider. "Tomorrow I will ask someone from Psy to look just far enough to tell us if there is any indication of distress. Will that satisfy you?"

  "I think you should call his friends."

  "If there is a reason to call, we'll call." He walked away and did not look back.

  She stood in the hall holding back tears - which confused the hell out of her - then placed her palm to the closed door. The fellow from across the hall emerged from his rooms. She jerked her hand away from the door like she'd been caught doing something wrong.

  "My boss lives here. He didn't come to work today. Did he by any chance mention to you that he was taking some time?"

  The man across the hall, whom she thought was the Manager of Antiquities Acquisition said, "No, young lady. I rarely see him. Works a lot, doesn't he?"

  "Thank you." She started away.

  "Probably gone to London for a nice piece of art glass."

  Heaven looked back at the neighbor and nodded while thinking the man must be on the upper end of the loon scale even by Order standards.

  Back at her desk - the last place she felt like being - her mind kept drifting to what she had read about Baka in the Chronicles. A couple of years had passed since then. She was left with a long-term memory impression, but not details. She hadn't known him personally of course.

  At the time he was a vampire. And there was that.

  Her eyes weren't focusing on the computer screen in front of her and she was generating sufficiently potent nervous tremors in her right leg to cause the chair to inch along under her. Every hour with no sign of Istvan Baka represented another phone message she left. And, with every hour that passed, her feelings of uneasiness intensified and became more agitated. There was a part of her that was beginning to regret having been so constant in her hostility toward him.

  Why do you hate me so much?

  She repeated that question several times over in her mind. Why did she have such a strong reaction to him? She asked herself if it was really because he had teased her about her name and decided that definitely wasn't it. A lot of people teased her about her name. Always had.

  Was it because she had been pulled away from a project she loved so that she could help with the Great Vampire Inversion? That couldn't be it either because she understood fully that there was nothing more important. The Order had been founded for the express purpose of eradicating the scourge of vampire. The other branches of services and research activities had been added over the centuries, but vampire slaying remained top priority. Every employee of The Order knew the story
of the count and the journeyman who had lost their wives and their happiness to vampire. There simply wasn't any work more important than doing away with that threat once and for all.

  Invalidating the two reasons she had been using to rationalize her rude and hostile behavior toward Istvan Baka, what did that leave?

  Oh, bloody the hell no.

  Her honest self-assessment had led her to a revelation that was the last thing she had expected to discover. She pulled up GilesQuery and typed a question.

  The first response was: William Shakespeare said, "Love me or hate me, both are in my favor... If you love me, I'll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind."

  That wasn't it. Searching for the quote she couldn't quite place, Heaven came across a science journal article. Love and hate rival each other as extremes of passion, but, as it turns out, they share the same brain circuitry. It seems there really is a very thin line between the two emotions previously thought to be opposites.

  She turned toward the window and stared out while she mulled that over. Was it possible that the extreme discomfort she felt around her boss was related to attraction? As she sat looking out at the gray day, she replayed in her mind every interaction between the two of them and, as she did, a fog lifted from his visage so that she could see him truly. What she saw was shocking.

  His blue eyes weren't just gorgeous, sexy, and intelligent. They were also kind. How was it that she had looked at him without seeing that? She remembered being irritated by the appeal of the way his mouth curved when something was amusing. She remembered how, shortly after they began working together alone, his voice and manner had softened toward her. It had started to wrap her in comfort like a warm, soft throw on a winter day.