by Kate Hill
The Elixir Maidens 2: Scarlet
Kate Hill
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Kate Hill
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ISBN (10) 1-59596-288-3
ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-288-1
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Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci
Cover Artist: Sinamin
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Chapter One
The chorus master’s strap struck Gregorio’s savagely beaten back in a blow that dragged a whimper from the boy’s throat. He’d sworn not to give his master the satisfaction of seeing him cry, but in spite of his promise, tears of pain leaked from his eyes.
After nearly three days locked alone in a cold cell with no food and little water, he had learned to hate the brutal bastard who had managed to destroy his only joy in life -- singing.
“You will practice when I tell you and how I tell you,” the man snarled, using the dreaded strap to emphasize each word. “You are mine. Voice, body, and soul, boy. Learn that now and life will be much easier for both of us.”
Greg jerked awake, his heart pounding and throat sore, as if he’d been screaming.
For a moment he forgot where he was and thought he was a child again. Back in the horrid cathedral, the master tormenting his young pupils into undergoing the rigorous training that would make some of them the finest vocalists in Italy, perhaps even the world. Gregorio had been his best student.
“Scarlet! Wake up and let me in!”
It was Ruby -- his close friend and member of their drag queen singing group, The Elixir Maidens -- who brought Greg back to reality, shouting from the hallway, calling him by the stage name he now went by. Finally he remembered. He was in a hotel room at Burgundy Peak, a popular vampire hangout in New York City owned by the ancient and mysterious Zigor.
Trembling, Greg dragged a hand across his face and found it damp with tears. Fucking damn! After more than three centuries, memories of those horrible years in the chorus still affected him deeply.
“Scarlet, let me in!” Ruby called.
Not trusting himself to reply without a pathetic quiver in his voice, Greg opted to keep silent. Perhaps then Ruby would go away. Not that he couldn’t use some comfort right now, but his vampiric senses caught the scent of Ruby’s lover and detected the quiet sounds of their whispering voices. The last thing he wanted was an audience for his embarrassing flashbacks to a time best forgotten.
Then another familiar, much-loved scent grew stronger and he heard Richie’s voice mingle with the other men’s. Richie was the third member of The Elixir Maidens and the only straight guy in the group. He was also Greg’s vampiric Creator and the one person beside Ruby he trusted.
Moments later, Ruby and his lover’s scents faded and Greg knew they’d returned to their room.
Richie pounded on the door and said, “Hey, Scarlet, open the freakin’ door before I kick it in!”
Struggling to regain his self-control, Greg walked to the door and opened it. He gazed into Richie’s handsome face with its jaw lightly stubbled from the day’s growth of beard and his thick brown hair sticking up in every direction.
“You okay?” Richie asked.
“Fine,” Greg said softly. “Just another --”
“Nightmare?”
Nodding, Greg lowered his gaze. “Didn’t mean to wake the whole floor.”
“Hey.” Richie placed a firm yet affectionate hand behind Greg’s neck. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Greg lifted his chin and stared into Richie’s dark blue eyes.
“Want me to stick around for a while?” Richie asked.
Feeling almost like a child in his insecurity, Greg was about to refuse, but when Richie took a step closer, he lost his resolve and stepped aside for his friend to pass.
After closing the door, Scarlet returned to bed where Richie was already sprawled on the side nearest the window. Long legs covered in faded red sweatpants stretched to the end of the bed. His chest and abs were sleekly muscled and smooth, though Scarlet knew he waxed off a considerable amount of chest hair so he wouldn’t look gross when he wore scoop-necked gowns during their performances. While Richie made an attractive drag queen, Greg couldn’t deny he was a far better looking man. Gorgeous, actually. It was a pity he only bedded women. Speaking of women, it was unlike Richie not to have a lover for the day.
“I’m not taking you away from some poor girl, am I?” Greg tried to sound teasing as he slipped back into bed, but with lingering memories of his nightmare, he only managed to sound a bit desperate.
Richie grinned. “Not tonight. Thought I’d give myself a break and the women a chance to see what they’re missing.”
Greg lay on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, staring at Richie. Just looking at him made him feel better, like he was grounded in reality again.
Richie motioned with a jerk of his head for Greg to come closer. He did so without hesitation, resting his head against Richie’s shoulder. His Creator’s arm draped over him and Greg closed his eyes, soothed by the closeness of the physical and emotional warmth of a trusted friend.
“Don’t know what I’d do without you, Rich,” Greg murmured.
“Hey, I told you when you took the Change I’d always be here for you.”
“I need to get over the past. It’s been long enough.”
“You’re doing fine. I remember when you’d have nightmares every day.”
That was true. He’d been little more than a child when he’d run away from the cathedral and tried to make his living in the streets of Rome. That’s where he’d met Richie, who had taken him in, offered him a job, and eventually continued his musical education -- all with no strings attached. At first he expected Richie to claim some type of repayment, something terrible like the chorus master had demanded. Slowly, Greg learned to trust his mentor and eventually Richie had confided in him regarding his vampirism. When Greg reached twenty years of age, he had asked Richie to perform the Change.
“Sometimes I don’t know what I’d have done without you,” Greg said.
“You’d have been okay. You have guts, Greg. Without them you’d have given up long before we met. That’s one thing a mentor can’t give you. It’s something becoming a vampire can’t give you. Courage and the will to survive comes from inside you.”
Greg sighed. He might have overcome the chorus master, but he’d lost something valuable in the tradeoff. As much as he longed for a permanent companion -- not just the occasional comfort offered by his friends -- he feared his past had stolen his ability to love.
“Richie?”
“Uh?” he muttered sleepily.
“Thanks.”
“Um.”
Smiling slightly, Greg closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
* * *
It was Christmas Eve and Andrew Netherby stood in Master Zigor’s private chamber at Burgundy Peak. The ancient vampire carefully examined the sword Andrew had just presented to h
im. Since he’d started out as an apprentice in Britain over a thousand years ago, Andrew had taken pride in every piece of armor and every weapon he’d created, but this sword was probably his best to date.
“Excellent,” Zigor said. “I am very pleased, Netherby.”
Such a compliment meant a great deal coming from this vampire known for his high standards in everything. The master of Burgundy Peak had been one of Andrew’s best customers for centuries, so when Zigor had commissioned him to make a special sword for his wife as a Christmas present, Andrew had taken pains with the weapon.
“Thank you,” Andrew said, accepting the envelope from Zigor containing payment for the sword. He folded it and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Before you go, feel free to enjoy the party downstairs.”
Andrew nodded and left the chamber. He jogged down the steps, fully intending to walk through the club and head home. Though he appreciated Zigor’s offer to stay for the festivities, he’d never been what anyone could call a party animal. Quiet by nature, Andrew had spent his life perfecting his craft. When he needed a break from making armor and weapons, he spent his free time training with them. Not that he considered himself a warrior, at least not at the level of men like Zigor. Andrew fought when necessary, but he didn’t relish bloodshed -- unless if it was exchanging bites with a willing partner.
At the bottom of the stairs, he opened the door and stepped into the club that was alive with vampires and mortals celebrating Christmas Eve. A decorated tree stood in one corner of the room and each table had a centerpiece of candles and holly. The tables and bar were filled with people drinking, eating, talking, and laughing. Though it looked like fun, Andrew felt like an outsider, as he usually did when faced with social situations.
He was about to leave when he glanced toward the stage and stopped dead in his tracks. Tonight’s entertainment was provided by The Elixir Maidens, a drag queen singing group well known in the vampire community. Andrew had heard of them, but never actually seen them since he preferred classical music to the modern selections the Maidens specialized in. All three singers wore red gowns and a pile of makeup. Two were rather cute, but Andrew couldn’t keep his eyes off the third. About five foot nine, slender with wavy chestnut hair and slanted brown eyes, he carried himself with charm and poise that reminded Andrew of days long past.
Rather than leaving the club, he headed for a table nearest the stage that, to his good fortune, just happened to be empty. Trying to appear nonchalant, he lounged in the chair and studied a menu, though his gaze kept riveting toward the chestnut-haired singer.
A waitress dressed as a Christmas elf approached. “What can I get you, sir?”
“Apple juice.”
“You want that straight?” she teased.
“Sure,” Andrew said absently, his eyes never leaving the stage.
He didn’t even notice when the waitress walked away, or when she returned and placed his order in front of him. Not only did the singer have great looks and a load of personality, but he had the most beautiful voice Andrew had ever heard, especially when he sang a solo version of “Ave Maria.” Obviously he didn’t sing strictly rock music, but had been classically trained. Andrew also guessed, from his appearance and the sound of his magical voice, he might be castrati. The practice of castrating young boys to keep the purity of their voices had, thank goodness, been outlawed long ago. Though he was a lover of classical music, the mutilation of children had always repelled Andrew. Apparently this vampire had existed during that barbaric age.
Partway through the performance, the singer’s gaze met Andrew’s and the sword maker felt a rush of heat spread through him. Sexual energy crackled between the two men, leaving Andrew’s mouth so dry that he reached for his apple juice and took several gulps.
Then a horrible thought struck him. What if that particular Elixir Maiden already had a lover? No doubt anyone who looked this good had many. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time Andrew had fallen for someone he couldn’t have. The least he could do would be to stick around and find out if the singer might be interested in a tryst with a muscle-bound armorer.
Throughout the performance, the singer kept meeting Andrew’s gaze. Once he even winked, sending a little thrill of desire through him. At the end of the show, Andrew finally caught the object of his interest’s name. Scarlet. Obviously a stage name, but somehow it fit the flirtatious drag queen perfectly.
When the Maidens left the stage and the DJ took over, Andrew remained seated, his heart pounding, and tried to decide whether or not he should approach Scarlet. To his surprise, the singer headed toward his table on the way across the club. He glanced at Andrew with a slight smile and continued walking.
Andrew stood. “Excuse me.”
Scarlet stopped, turned on his heel, and lifted his gaze to meet that of the six-foot-four-inch armorer. “Yes?”
“I… uh, really liked your show.”
Scarlet smiled, revealing even teeth, brilliant white against his red-painted lips. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to join me for a drink or dinner… if you’re not busy, that is.”
Scarlet’s smile faded and he drew a deep breath. Damn. He shouldn’t have asked. It was tacky. It was pathetic. It was --
“Yeah. Give me a few minutes to change, and I’ll meet you back at your table.”
With a last glance through his rather thick lashes, Scarlet turned and sauntered out of the club area toward the hotel rooms upstairs.
Andrew grinned and headed for the men’s room where he glanced in the mirror, wishing he’d taken as much pains with his appearance as he did with his craft. His jeans, though snug enough to emphasize the muscles in his long legs, were badly faded and had a hole in one knee. His old sweatshirt with a beer company’s logo on it wasn’t exactly the picture of class either.
He turned on the sink and ran his hands under the water, then tried to smooth down his unruly dark brown hair. Placing a hand over his mouth, he exhaled hard. His breath was fine, but he used a few shots of the mint spray just to be on the safe side. Damn, had it really been so long since he’d had a date that he scarcely knew how to act anymore?
Hell, yes, he thought. The last time he’d slept with someone had been nineteen eighty -- shit, it was too embarrassing to recall, even in private. Completely consumed by his work, he even drank most of his blood from a bottle or set up appointments every now and then with donors from Burgundy Peak.
Hold everything. What made him think Scarlet was going to sleep with him? They were just meeting for dinner and some pleasant conversation. Just because his cock swelled to gargantuan proportions simply from thinking about the chestnut-haired singer didn’t mean Scarlet felt the same way. Maybe after they talked, they’d find they didn’t even like each other.
Andrew, you’re acting like a jackass.
After a final glance in the mirror, he returned to his table and sat, waiting for Scarlet’s return.
* * *
In his room above the club area of Burgundy Peak, Greg undressed slowly, his stomach taut with anxiety. What the hell had made him give in to the urge to get personal with a member of his audience? The answer was obvious. Not only was the guy gorgeous in a rough and ready sort of way, but he looked at Scarlet with an expression hot enough to melt the iciest heart. Those dark blue eyes, aglow with vampiric lust, seemed to burn right through him, exciting him in a way he hadn’t felt in -- actually Greg couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this attracted to anyone. The sensation was almost frightening.
It’s just dinner, he told himself, but deep inside he feared this innocent sharing of a meal could lead to a romp in the bedroom. Then how would he explain…
Greg shook his head. Better not to think about it.
But that’s how he’d dealt with the situation all his life, by turning off any emotion that might resemble love. That way he wasn’t required to explain and relive the past. Both Richie and Ruby had been telling him for years
he couldn’t lock away his heart forever. Eventually he’d meet someone he’d want to let in.
“But that doesn’t mean this is the guy,” Greg muttered as he stepped into the shower and washed quickly, knowing he couldn’t keep his dinner date waiting all night. Besides, whoever this guy was, he was attracted to Scarlet, the Elixir Maiden, the coquettish queen, not Greg. Scarlet was outgoing and flirtatious, and Greg the exact opposite.
Tonight, Scarlet would go downstairs, flirt with the hunk, enjoy dinner, and that would be all.
Sighing, he closed his eyes. Later that night, Greg would return to his room, drink some bottled blood, and drift into nightmares alone.
Again.
At least tomorrow night he’d be spending the holiday with Richie and Ruby.
After dressing in a simple, floor-length black dress with a long string of oversized pearls, Scarlet brushed his waist-length chestnut hair until it gleamed. He applied his makeup as carefully as before a show, for he had already convinced himself this dinner with the mega-hunk was simply another performance.
Satisfied with his appearance, Scarlet drew a deep breath and released it slowly, surprised by how nervous he felt. Before he changed his mind about this evening, he left his room and hurried back to the club. No sooner had he stepped through the door than the hunk’s gaze was riveted to him. He stood and offered a half smile as Scarlet approached.
“Hey,” Scarlet said, accepting a kiss on the cheek. Not only did the guy’s lips feel great against his skin, but he smelled fantastic. Like woodsy cologne, mint and raw man. Scarlet resisted the urge to touch him and took a seat across the table. “By the way, what’s your name?”
The man smiled, revealing a slight overbite that Scarlet found rather enticing. “Sorry. I guess I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Andrew Netherby.”
“So, Andrew, why are you having Christmas Eve dinner with a total stranger? No family, friends, lovers… Creator?”
“My Creator is somewhere in Japan, I think. She moves around so much it’s hard to keep track of her.”