“No!” she screamed, and then the anger and heat and hunger took her. She pulled his neck up and clamped her mouth over the hammering pulse in his neck. Josie drank deep, shaking Neville when he shouted, batting at his head when he tried to squirm away. Her prey fell still, and she drank.
She fed until the pull of her hunger lessened, then she let Neville’s body fall and sat back, still crouched over him when she caught the edge of her reflection in her dressing mirror. She cocked her head at the strange creature she saw.
A dark curtain of hair hung around her face. Her skin was pale, but luminous in a way she’d never noticed before. Strange green eyes went wide with delight at the curious creature in the mirror. Blood dripped down her chin, and her mouth hung open as the edge of sharp white fangs sparkled in the lamplight.
She reached up and touched them with wonder, then her eyes searched for Tom, who was standing motionless in the doorway wearing nothing but his trousers and a guarded expression. She smiled when she saw he had fangs too.
“Tom,” she said, lifting a dainty, blood-covered hand. “Look at me. Aren’t I the pretty monster?”
SHE couldn’t stop touching him, but Tom didn’t seem to object. He held her on his lap, though he’d ignored her wishes and donned a shirt. Josie kept pushing things and lifting them, enamored of her new strength.
“Tom?” she asked, lifting up her arm. “If I cut myself, will I bleed?”
“Yes. Don’t cut yourself.”
“I was just curious.” She pushed his shoulder and felt it give. “I’m so strong now.”
“I know you are.” His voice was everything. It was love and relief and laughter. It was the most seductive thing she’d ever heard in her life. She was hungry for so much more than blood, but Tom said they had to wait for Murphy.
“Are you laughing at me?” She stroked the creases around his eyes. He was so handsome. Well, not to everyone, for his scars and wrinkles would never make him handsome to the fools of the world. But he was the most handsome man in existence to her.
“Maybe a little,” he said softly. “I’m so happy. Are you happy? Are you content with this?”
“Tom, listen.” She put a hand on his chest, then she took the deepest breath she could, letting it out slowly as she smiled. “Grand. I feel grand.”
“So you’re not too angry with me?” Tom asked. “For not telling you the whole of it?”
Josie laughed. “I wouldn’t have believed you! Who would believe this? I’m not sure I truly believe it yet.”
She turned when she heard the door. She tensed until she saw it was Anne and Murphy. Her eyes filled with tears and she stood, holding her arms out to Murphy. “I love you,” she said. “So much. Both of you. Though mostly I love Tom.”
Murphy embraced her, then Anne.
“We love you too,” Anne said. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.”
“How about me?” Declan came in behind Anne. “Do you love me?”
Tom made a noise and Josie turned back to him.
“Was that a growl?” she asked. “Did you really growl?”
“Maybe.”
“Can we turn into great cats like in the book?” She tried not to bounce. “Is that why you can growl?”
“No. That’s just a story.”
Declan scoffed, “What books has she been reading?”
“You say it’s just a story,” Josie said. “But so were vampires until I became one. I’m a vampire…” She sank into the chair next to Tom. “How marvelous.”
“Boss, what are we going to do about Burke?” Declan asked Murphy while Tom stayed suspiciously silent, guarded eyes pointed at his sire.
Josie tried to stir up some guilt about her cousin, but she couldn’t seem to grab onto it properly. After all, Neville was odious. And he’d been about to shoot Tom.
“I’ll tell Beecham the truth, of a sort. The human invaded my home and was about to shoot one of my people. He won’t make a fuss. After all, it is evident from what Josie said that Beecham has been filling Burke’s head with stories. He won’t want that getting out, will he?”
“And Josie?”
“I told you, as far as the world is concerned, she’s dead. Josephine Shaw Murphy died two nights ago, and you’re going to bury her in a grave two nights hence.”
Josie gasped. “May I go? I’d love to go to my own funeral.”
The answer was a unanimous and choral “No.”
“We’re not telling Beecham then?” Declan said.
Murphy shook his head. “We can work this around to harm him. If I attack him now, we’ll lose too many people. Aggression creates enemies. I don’t need enemies, I need allies. In time, we’ll let it slip that Beecham was the one who told Neville Burke about us, leading the man here. The more conservative vampires in the city will shun him. They’ll start looking for a replacement.”
Josie smiled. “And that replacement will be you, of course. Mr. Murphy, you are an excellent plotter. Well done!”
“Thank you, Josephine.” Murphy smiled. “But I think you can call me Murphy now.”
“ARE you sure?”
Tom was talking again while she tried to seduce him. How irritating.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Kiss me.”
They’d fled to the safety of Tom’s bedchamber as soon as possible. He informed her they’d only be a few weeks in Dublin before he moved her someplace more secure with fewer humans and less temptation. He only needed to stay in Dublin long enough for her funeral and to appear properly grief stricken to anyone who might be watching.
Josie decided she wouldn’t mind being farther away from people. Even now, she could smell the lingering scent of blood filling the hallways, though all the mortal servants had fled to Murphy and Anne’s house next door. She wanted Tom to distract her. Also, she wanted to kiss him. As often as possible.
“I don’t mind,” she said again. “Kiss me.”
She groaned in pleasure when he stripped off her clothes. The feel of them, like anything to do with her senses, was rough and angry on her nerves. The lights were all doused, but she saw without effort. The room was cool and comfortable. And Tom…
He was temptation incarnate.
It had been a nonstop flood of information since she’d woken that night. Well, there had been the violent episode at the beginning, but that was already far from her mind. Someday, when she could think of something other than her own hunger, she might take the memory of Neville out and feel guilty.
But of course, she reminded herself, he had been about to shoot Tom.
Oh, Tom.
Her husband clamped his mouth down on her neck, bracing himself between her thighs as he teased her body to violent arousal.
“I’m stronger,” she gasped. “You won’t have to be so careful anymore.”
“I know.” He nipped at her skin. “Josie, can I…”
“What? You can do anything you like, Tom. Always.”
“Be careful offering gifts like that.”
“What do you want?”
“To bite you.” He captured her mouth and teased her fangs, which were deliciously sensitive.
“To drink? From me? Is that… done?”
“Yes. And then you’d bite me.”
Oh, her body liked that idea very much.
“Oh, yes, please,” she said, writhing under him. “Now, in fact. Please do that now.”
“It’s a blood tie. A bond between us.”
“Silly man. Are you hesitating for me? We’re married already.”
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “This is permanent, Josephine. Not anything that can be broken. Not even by the Church. If I take your blood and you take mine, we’ll live in each other forever.”
Josie stroked his cheek and smiled. “Like I said, silly man, we’re already wed. I promised to love you till I die.”
“You did die.”
“No.” She kissed him and scraped her fangs over the thick muscle of his ne
ck. “I lived. And you are my life now. My very proper monster. I love you, Tom. Forever.”
He kissed her as he took her, and Josie felt her soul slip free. She tilted her head back and bared her throat to him. His fangs pressed and sank in, claiming her on the most elemental level as he drove them both closer to release. She held on to him until he pulled back, then he bared his own throat to her, and she tasted her lover’s blood, rich with the scent of sea and salt and whiskey. She was lost in him, and he in her.
Her husband.
Her hero.
Her Tom.
Chapter Nine
TOM WOKE THAT NIGHT with a dream in his arms. His Josie, safe. Strong. Healthy. She was a revelation. She was alive.
And far from resigned to her immortality. Josie seemed to rejoice in it. But then, if it was possible any human might be born to become a vampire, it would be his Josie. Her morbid imagination existing side by side with her humor and appreciation for life was unlike any other human he’d met. She reveled in the monstrous. She delighted in the macabre.
Keeping her away from her funeral was going to be a challenge.
Tom heard a knock at the door.
Leaving her in the bed they could now share, he walked silently to the sitting room. He smelled Anne on the other side of the hall door and cracked it open.
She held out several jars of fresh blood. “Fresh from the kitchens. Tomorrow she starts getting chilled. We’ve gone through the available staff.”
“Fair enough.”
He waited, wanting to close the door but sensing she had more to say.
“He wasn’t being cruel, Tom.”
“So you say.”
“He loves you.”
“And I love her.”
She waited, lips pursed. “I know that. But he didn’t. Not till the end. Would you have done it? Would you have met the day if she’d died?”
He tilted his chin up, displaying the marks he’d not allowed her to heal. Her own claim on him, as she bore the scars from his first bite.
Anne nodded. “I see. She truly is your mate then.”
“It wasn’t a bluff. I don’t bluff. She’s it for me, Annie. Was from the moment I saw her, I think.”
Anne glanced over his shoulder. “It’s early yet. There’s no way of knowing how she’ll adapt. She could be mad, Tom.”
“She won’t be.” Tom was sure of it. A bit off at times? Maybe. But she had been in life too. Her genius was its own kind of madness, but her kindness had survived her death. “It’s no matter to me. I’ll love her anyway. Keep her safe. I promised to care for her as long as we live. I never made that kind of promise before her, and I don’t plan on breaking it.”
Lifting to her toes, she kissed his scarred cheek. “You’re a good man, Tom Dargin.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “All I know is I’m a better man for her.”
My dearest Lenore,
If you’re reading this letter, it’s because I have finally slipped into the dark night that has been beckoning for so long now. I hope Tom is the one delivering the news to you. I hope you have the fortune to meet the wonderful man who made the last months of my life so full of love and life. Be kind to him, dear friend, for I think he will not come to you unbruised.
He loves me. And I love him. Most desperately.
He is, and will remain, my truest hero. My most dashing knight. The most honorable of scoundrels.
Remember me, Lenore. Remember our happy days at school and our silly rambles around town. Remember my stories. I hope they continue to bring joy to you and my readers. I wish there were more to leave behind, but I suppose I’d need a hundred years or more to write all the stories crowding my imagination. Twenty-nine was never going to be enough.
I’ve left them to you, my dearest editor, to do with as you please. I wasn’t able to finish the grand story with the airships, but as you have a most excellent imagination, I know you will imagine a fine end for your favorite heroine. After all, I’ve given her your name.
I hope you find your own adventure. If there is one thing love has taught me, it is that one should never wait for life. Dare to live dangerously. You never know what mysteries could be waiting in the shadows.
I remain your true friend. Happy to the end. Content. And eager for the unknown embrace of night.
Yours, always,
Josephine Shaw Murphy
THE pretty, brown-haired woman set down the letter with tears in her eyes.
“Did she go peacefully?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Tom said with a rueful smile. “Not Josie. She fought it, and I held her till the end.”
A small sob escaped Miss Tetley’s lips, and she covered her mouth with an embroidered handkerchief. Tom recognized Josie’s slightly messy stitches on the edges.
“She was happy,” Tom said. “She didn’t linger long. Was active and writing up until two nights before she died. I’m happy for that.”
Miss Tetley smiled. “She would have liked that. She could never be idle. A homebody, yes, but not an idle one. She loved working too much. There was always another book to read or a reference to check. A story to plan.”
“She had great respect for you. And great affection. She spoke of you often.”
“Thank you, Mr. Murphy. I am so sorry for your loss. Yet so happy you had the time with her that you did.”
He nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”
“Her father… it was only a few nights before that he died, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Only two nights.”
“They were so very close.”
“They were.”
“Did…” She fidgeted a bit. “I know she was very keen that Mrs. Porter would receive the house in Bray, along with a generous allowance. Can you see that it be done? I hate to intrude, but Mrs. Porter—”
“Will be well looked after,” Tom said. “Josie was very clear. I’m happy to see that she has a good retirement.”
“Thank you, Mr. Murphy. I worried that Neville would make problems for you.”
“Mr. Burke, as it happens, seems to have left Dublin. There’s no sign of him at his usual haunts. There were rumors he’d fallen in with some disreputable companions.”
“Oh.” Miss Tetley’s eyes widened. “How fortunate her father’s business interests were transferred to your family then.”
“We do not take the responsibility lightly, miss.”
A few more polite exchanges left Tom feeling adrift. He had never been one for small talk—even less so when he felt as if he was lying—so he departed soon after Miss Tetley’s father and mother returned from the theater. The young woman wiped her eyes and stood, clearly wrecked from grief but with a smile on her face.
“Thank you, Mr. Murphy, for delivering her letter and the books she left me. I’ll treasure them.”
“I’m glad.”
“Will you be all right, sir?”
Tom paused. “I will never forget her. She was the most unexpected gift of my life. But she’d want me to keep going, wouldn’t she?”
Miss Tetley nodded and gave him a brave smile. “She would.”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
He put on his hat, tipped it toward her, and walked into the foggy London night.
THE house in Kinvara belonged to Anne. It was a great old farmhouse build up from a stone cottage that stood at the edge of Galway Bay. Most importantly, it was isolated. No humans lived around them for miles.
Like Tom, Josie had an affinity toward saltwater, which was lucky as the whole of Galway Bay was available for their play.
And they played.
They roamed the ocean, Josie buoyant with the joy of unexpected vitality. Tom often caught her breathing deeply as she sat in the salt air. She’d listen in wonder at the silence of her own lungs. Then a rare joy would cross her face, and she’d leap into the ocean, dancing beneath the water as if she were a mermaid.
Josie loved the sea. She told Tom she always had, though the doctors had warned
her away from ocean-bathing when she’d been human. Now she held nothing back.
Her amnis was another story.
While Murphy and Declan were busy in Dublin, Anne had traveled out with them, hoping to help her friend along with learning to control her elemental strength. But even the most rudimentary lessons seemed to fail.
“Try again,” Anne said, holding both of Josie’s hands. “Do you feel it?”
“I do.” Josie nodded. “It’s sitting on the back of my neck, moving over my shoulders, like water poured from a pitcher.”
“Excellent. Now I want you to push it. Try to spread it over your skin. As if you were smoothing a stocking or pushing a glove up your arm.”
Tom looked up from his newspaper, catching the small frown that grew between his wife’s eyes.
“Are you trying?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know,” Josie said with a huff. “I can feel it, but it’s not… It simply won’t do what I want. I don’t understand. Why is this so easy for all of you and not me?”
Anne sighed. It was their third lesson of the week, and so far, even the most rudimentary manipulation of amnis seemed beyond Josie. While a basic shield of amnis came instinctually for most vampires, it was not instinct to Josie.
“If you can’t do this, you’ll have no way of heating your skin,” Anne said.
Josie shrugged. “Poor circulation? I can’t see any humans for a long time anyway. Tom won’t care, will you, Tom?”
“Course not,” he grunted, trying not to be nosy. He didn’t want to interfere with the lessons, after all. Just didn’t want Anne to push his girl too far. She was still new at all this.
“And your skin will be too sensitive,” Anne added.
“Sounds like an excellent reason to eschew fancy clothing.” She winked at Tom, who only shook his head.
“Josie, you won’t be able to hide forever,” Anne said. “At some point, you’ll have to rejoin society.”
“Why?”
Tom blinked and looked up. “What do you mean, why?”
Beneath a Waning Moon: A Duo of Gothic Romances Page 10