by PG Forte
Desert Rose glared. “Let go of me, jerk. I don’t want anyone else to do it. All I was saying was that Armand’s not afraid of you, is he? So you can’t be as bad as all that. Quit acting like such a freak. You’re tying to scare me away, but it’s not gonna work. You’re just making me mad.”
Reluctantly, Conrad let her go. “As I told you earlier, my dear, you’d do well to be more afraid than you are—both of me and this step you’re considering. This is not something you should take lightly. Not if you’ve any sense at all, which, at the moment, I must tell you, I am finding hard to believe. As for Armand, you are very much mistaken. I can assure you I’ve rendered him quite terrified upon occasion, as recently as last December, in fact, in the wake of your regretfully abrupt departure.”
Sitting up, she looked at him doubtfully. “After the party? Why? What happened?”
“I sent him to look after you, to keep you from leaving. He failed me.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Well, that wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known I was gonna run. You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
Conrad said nothing. He almost wished he could say he had. The girl had no awareness of danger whatsoever.
“Conrad, you didn’t, did you?”
“No, I didn’t hurt him. But, I have hurt others, including some who I loved very much. And, speaking of loved ones,” he said with a scowl, “I must say, chérie, you do seem to have developed quite a tendresse de cœur for the boy.”
She looked puzzled. “I’ve developed a what?”
“Une tendresse. A tenderness. You know, a crush? It’s really quite sweet. Very…touching,” he lied. It wasn’t touching at all. Or sweet. It was irritating, is what it was. Absolutely infuriating. And another good reason not to turn her. Surely, it would not be fair to any of them.
If he didn’t turn her, on the other hand, what assurance did he really have that someone else would not? The thought of that—of someone else’s blood mingling with hers, of someone else owning her allegiance—was worse than almost anything else he could think of.
“Oh, you’re just crazy,” she sighed. After a minute she murmured hesitantly, “Conrad?”
“Yes? What now?”
“That other vampire. The one in the garden. What did he want with me?”
“I think he was looking to feed from you. Why?”
“So he wasn’t…he wasn’t really going to hurt me?”
Conrad shrugged. “I don’t know. It might not have been his intention to do so, but not all vampires concern themselves overmuch with the feelings of those they feed on. There are many among us who have earned the sinister reputation we all enjoy.”
His own sire included. She would never have even considered wasting her precious venom on anything so unimportant as alleviating the suffering of those upon whom she preyed. Indeed, he’d often suspected she preferred the bitter tang their pain imparted to the blood she drank, just as she preferred to hoard not just her own venom, but that of her children as well. Rather than allowing anyone to enjoy its effects, she had it collected, concentrated and distilled to create the drug with which she rendered her enemies helpless, a substance so powerful it could subdue and incapacitate even the strongest of vampires.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking off the unpleasant memories. “Whatever he was here for—whether he planned on hurting you or not—he was still in the wrong. His behavior was unforgivable. You were a guest in my house and he attempted to force himself on you. I allow no one to behave in such a fashion. Not under my roof.”
Much to Conrad’s surprise, that brought a smile to her lips. “What is it you find so amusing?” he asked as she laughed softly.
“I can see how very harsh and cruel you’d be. You’re a great big phony, you know that?”
“You’re going to pay for that insolence.” He pulled her back down to lie beneath him and kissed her soundly, intending to drug her into submission…or, at least, into silence.
“I know what you’re doing,” she murmured drowsily, even as her limbs relaxed and she kissed him back. “You’re trying to make me forget about it, like you did before.”
He said nothing, just kissed her again.
“But you can’t make me forget forever.”
Conrad sighed. She was only partially right. He could make her forget—not just about wanting to become a vampire, but about anything and everything he wanted her to. He could make her forget about vampires, about him, about the entire last six months. Unfortunately, he would most likely destroy her mind in the process. “My dear, you are impossible.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have been afraid of you.”
He gazed at her in disbelief. “Have you? I must have blinked.”
She shook her head. “I’m serious. Do you think I wanted to feel like this? ’Cause I didn’t. I didn’t want to get tied down or fall for anyone. I’ve never wanted that. All I wanted was an adventure.”
“I don’t believe it,” Conrad said with a sigh. “So you’re saying that’s what this is about? You think it will be an adventure to be a vampire? It’s forever, mignonne, that’s a long time to regret an impulse.”
“Stop twisting things around,” she protested. “That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just…if I stay human, now that I’m stuck on you like this, I’ll have to give up everything else. I’ll grow old—right here in this city—watching while you don’t get old, while you stay just the same. You’ll get tired of me and I’ll be all alone and then I’ll die here and I’ll never have the chance to do anything with my life.”
Chilled, he pulled away from her and sat up again. “You’re right, you know. That’s an impossible situation for either of us. Luckily, it’s easily solved.” He’d send her away. Tonight. Now. And never see her again. It was for the best.
She shook her head, her expression sorrowful. “No, it’s not. I know what you’re thinking, but if you try and make me leave I’ll just be miserable. I’ll always think of you and miss you and want to be with you. Maybe you think it will go away, but it won’t. I might not know much, but I do know that much, and I know there’s no one else out there like you. Or, maybe there are, but, I bet they aren’t human either, are they?”
“Mignonne,” he growled warningly, eyes closing as he struggled to control his temper. “I’m warning you for the last time. You’re playing a very dangerous game and I want you to stop it right now.” He would not let her go to another vampire. He would not. Anything would be preferable.
“But, if I stay and you turn me, I can live forever. I can have everything.”
“Not everything.” When he opened his eyes, the sight of her eager little face made him smile, despite himself; made him long to give in, to forget his reservations and give her everything she was asking for and more. But not without warning her. Not without making sure she understood. There was always a price to pay. Nothing came for free. “There are still things you would have to give up, chérie. Children. Sunlight. The desert—didn’t you tell me it was your favorite place? It would no longer be that, once you were turned, I can promise you.”
“So, big deal. I can look at pictures of it, if I want to. I’ll still have my memories of it, won’t I? Besides,” she said, smiling as she slipped her arms around him. “I have a new favorite place. Right here.”
“I’ll think about it,” Conrad murmured once again, but the look in his eyes gave him away and it was all Suzanne could do to keep from grinning.
“How does it work?” she asked. “What will it be like when you turn me? What do you have to do?”
Conrad shrugged. “First, I must drink your blood.” Pushing her hair away from her neck, he dragged the tip of one finger down the side of her neck. “Not just a taste, such as I had before, but as much of it as I can take, until the greater part of your blood has mixed with mine. Next, you must drink from my blood.”
“Your blood?” She gazed at him in alarm. “You mean I have to bite you? Wh-what if I
can’t?”
“There’s no ‘if’ about it,” he answered, smiling just a little. “I already know you can’t. Your human teeth would be of very little use in that regard. But, there is no need for you to try, that’s not what I meant. I will take care of that part. However, once I have opened my vein, mignonne, you must drink from it. If you cannot you will surely die, for you will not have enough of your own blood left, at that point, to sustain you. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Suzanne nodded, trying to smile. “Is that it then?”
“Not quite. Next you will sleep il sonno dei morti. The sleep of the dead. For two days, maybe three, you will drift in and out of consciousness, unable to move or speak. Your heart will slow to the point it will appear to have stopped, as will your breathing. During that time, your body will begin to transform itself. Your senses will heighten, your fangs will grow in, your needs will change.”
“Will you stay with me?” she asked, hating how frightened her voice sounded. “You won’t leave me alone will you?”
“I won’t leave you alone,” Conrad promised.
She nodded again. “And then?”
“And then there is only one more step you must take. When you awaken, you must feed.”
Feed. Suzanne bit her lip. “You mean like you do. On blood.”
Conrad nodded. “Like I do now and as you will have to do from that point forward.”
“Can it be yours again?” she asked hopefully.
“No, my dear. I’m afraid vampire blood would do you no good at that point. Only human blood will give you what you need, will allow your body to complete its transformation. Up until that point you will still be only partially transformed. You could still turn back, although I warn you, it would not be at all pleasant. Once you’ve taken your first meal, however, and replenished your new body with fresh blood the transformation will complete itself. The changes will be sealed and you will never be human again.” He looked at her sternly. “Never. Which is why you must be very, very certain it is what you want.”
“I am certain,” she answered, trying to sound as sure as she felt. “I want this. I do. It’s just, you will help me, won’t you? You’ll show me what to do and h-how to, how to feed?”
Conrad nodded. “Of course I will, little one.” He leaned down to kiss her. “Never doubt it. I will teach you everything you need to know.”
“Do it now,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him back. “Don’t make me wait.”
Conrad’s head reared back. His eyes blazed gold as he looked at her longingly, hungrily. He wants this too, she thought suddenly, breath catching in excitement, lips curling in an exultant smile.
“Mignonne,” he whispered and she thrilled to hear the tremble of desire in his voice. “Please understand. There will be no going back once you make this choice. Are you very sure it is what you want?”
Suzanne nodded. “Yes. I want you. I want you now.”
For maybe half a second nothing happened. They stared into each other’s eyes. Then, before Suzanne’s muscles had time to tense, Conrad moved. His head dropped to her neck. Suzanne gasped in surprise as his teeth sank into her throat with a suddenness that almost stole her breath away. Fisting her fingers in his hair, she stared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding, her mind reeling in incredulous delight. It’s happening. I can’t believe it. It really is happening.
Chapter Fifteen
Present Day
Marc’s mind was adrift on a cloud of post-coital pleasure when an unfamiliar sound, a rustling, whirring noise from the loft downstairs, startled him awake. “What was that?” he whispered into Elise’s ear.
Yawning, she turned her head to smile at him over her shoulder. “Curtains closing. It must be just before daybreak.”
Daybreak? Already? Marc groaned. “I should have left by now. I should have been out looking for that guy.”
“Relax,” Elise answered, stretching a little before she settled against him once more. “What’s your hurry? You don’t want to be running around at this time of day, do you? It’s not like he’s going anywhere. Besides, once you hear Vincent’s sad story, who knows? You might even decide to cut him a break and leave him alone. He’s suffered too, you know.”
No hurry? Her words caught Marc off-guard. Of course. She doesn’t know. Elise could have no idea about the real reason for his urgency. No clue that finding “Vincent” was only a first step toward, hopefully, finding Conrad. And he couldn’t tell her, because Damian was afraid of the repercussions.
“So, how bad are things at your nest?” he asked. “You know, with your sire gone, and all? It can’t be as bad as they say it is, can it?”
Elise shook her head. “Sugar, if you’ve never seen it, you’ve no idea. Instinct…it can be a pretty terrible thing. I don’t think I ever really appreciated that before. And I know I didn’t appreciate how good we all had it before this nightmare started. I’m talking about friends, lovers—vampires I thought were loyal to each other unto death—I’ve seen ’em turn on each other in an instant, threatening to rip each other’s head off. And meaning it, too! That’s why I stay here now. I can’t deal with the drama. I’m not in the least ambitious, but try telling that to the folks who are. I’m just hoping to keep my head down until the dust’s settled. But if the wrong party ends up in power… I don’t know what I’ll do then. Probably try and leave town, I guess. If they’ll let me.” She sighed. “But, let’s not talk about that now. No sense in borrowing trouble, is there? Que sera, sera, and all that. Let’s just get some sleep.”
“I still need you to tell me what you know about Vincent,” Marc reminded her, startled by what she’d said, and even more determined now. Here was yet another reason to find Conrad quick—not that he’d needed one.
“Later,” she murmured sleepily.
“Elise…”
“Tonight,” she promised. “When we wake up.”
“You’d better,” Marc grumbled, disguising his impatience with mock menace, sinking his fangs into her shoulder. “Or else.”
She laughed softly, unmoved by his threat. “I said I would, didn’t I? Now, be a good boy and let me get my beauty sleep.”
Marc bit her again, one final nip, on the side of her neck this time—but whether he was acting out of frustration or lust, he no longer knew. He licked at the little driplets of blood that oozed from the tiny wounds he’d made and felt as though all his worries were subsiding into bliss. Man, he loved the taste of her blood, the scent of her skin, the rush of her venom through his veins. She was the first vampire he’d ever taken to bed and now that he’d had her, he couldn’t believe what he’d been missing out on all these years. He couldn’t imagine ever again settling for anything less.
For the first time in his life that he could remember, he was glad for what he was. He still felt guilty he hadn’t gotten everything he’d come here for—the information that would, hopefully, lead them to Conrad—but what he had learned had been almost as valuable.
If Elise was to be believed, Damian hadn’t been overstating the need for secrecy, after all. There was a need for it, all right. The possibility that anyone—even those closest to Conrad—might turn and betray him, was another factor for Marc to ponder in the hours before evening. There was a real and present danger here, a threat to Conrad’s well-being that he hadn’t even considered.
The sound of the curtains sliding open woke Marc the second time. The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that the bed beside him was empty. He sat up quickly, glancing around, sniffing the air, but oil paint and darkness were all he sensed. Growling, he threw on his clothes and headed down the stairs to look for Elise.
He found her in her studio, standing in front of a large easel, paint brush in one hand, porcelain mug in the other. Letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, he went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Are you in your ‘blue period’?” he inquired, nodding at the canvas she’d
been working on: a cool-shaded portrayal of the same cityscape he could see framed in the windows around them.
Elise wrinkled her nose. “How very unoriginal,” she murmured, lifting her face for his kiss.
He sniffed at her mug. “Is that coffee you’re drinking? Another affectation?”
“More of a ritual, really. It started out as a habit. You can sit and sketch all night at almost any cafe in Paris, as long as you appear to be drinking something. Eventually, I grew to like the taste of it.” She shrugged. “Believe it or not, the caffeine helps me think.”
“Is it helping you think about what you’re going to tell me about Vincent?”
Elise sighed. “There,” she said, gesturing at a large canvas propped against one of the walls. “Go and take a look.”
“What is it I’m looking at?” Marc asked, stepping closer to the painting—a life study of a long-haired young man, naked except for a string of beads around his neck, reclining on a divan in front of a psychedelic background reminiscent of Peter Max. It was interesting, but… He turned back to her. “I’m not seeing any scars?”
“No. That’s because there weren’t any then. I painted that in 1968. November or December, I think. Just before his uh…accident.”
“How do you even know it’s the same guy?” Marc asked, growing angry. Had he been wasting his time on a wild-goose chase, while Conrad was dying? “This could be anyone!”
“Look, sugar, I know this is the big city and all that but, trust me, there just aren’t that many vampires like Vincent walking around in it. He’s kind of unique, which is a blessing, in a way. Besides, as it happens, I caught sight of him outside the club the night you were there with your sister. But, if you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to keep looking for him on your own. Good luck finding him though. The boy didn’t survive this long without knowing how to hide.”