by Joey W. Hill
So, with almost no training to prepare her for being ripped out of her life, Nina had been delivered to his door. He thought of that first moment he’d gotten her alone, how he’d gone after her like an animal, something overwhelming him that he hadn’t expected.
She’d teased him with that poignant sadness about no small talk, no ‘how’ve you been.’ Yet the reason for that was simple. From the moment he saw her, it was as if he’d never been away from her. Or had been away from her for too damn long.
She’d held her own, and responded to him, which only maddened him further. But fortunately, his own reaction had startled him enough he’d been able to rein himself back. Eventually.
He didn’t even know if she understood his role or its importance. Bringing Stanley here might have helped some things, but had mucked others up. No one but himself to blame for that.
“Another drink?”
Lifting himself out of the well of his own thoughts, he nodded. After Stanley had gotten dressed and Alistair had Nero bring him a new shirt, the two of them had sat out on the back veranda, sharing cigars and drinks, just shooting bull. Sports, vampires, Stanley’s business. The bloke was a decent tailor, so Alistair had helped him set up a shop, and he was starting to acquire a customer base. He’d be repairing Alistair’s shirt for free, or providing him a new one, the blighter.
Though Stanley necessarily promoted himself as a tailor, the ladies were learning word to mouth that he was an accomplished seamstress. Hemming men’s pants were the least of his talents. The fellow could create a whole party dress, complete with flounces and tucks and whatever the hell pretty dresses had, so his clientele was mixed gender, not the usual thing.
Stan hadn’t run into any human backlash on that. Yet. Under normal circumstances, Alistair wouldn’t worry about a vampire’s ability to deflect human curiosity or societal censure. However, Stan had an unsettling way of freezing, forgetting he was a vampire, when confronted by a mob who might be after him about being a ponce. It was unfortunate, but not difficult to understand why. Even for a vampire, some memories could overcome the present-day knowledge of who one was.
Nina had picked right up on it, hadn’t she? She was a nurse, but more than that, she was a healer. Drawn to wounded souls.
Alistair grimaced, threw back the rest of his drink, which did very little to dull his senses, more’s the pity. Vampires only had a couple of outlets to get out of their own heads. Violence and sex, and the lines between them were pretty fucking slim.
She didn’t need to be near that part of him. Not right now. Which was why he’d sent her away, with no intention of visiting her again before dawn. He’d made sure of it, ordering her to be in the upstairs bedroom. He knew having her in the room next to his underground would have blown his resolve straight to hell.
Yeah, he’d hurt her, left her alone, and she was way too damn alone right now. But they had to take this at the pace that would work.
Soon as he determined what that pace was. The most important thing was that she was here. He had her. For the first time in way too long, some small part of his discontented spirit felt at peace.
Nina dozed fitfully throughout the night, expecting every sound to be Alistair. It wasn’t until the sun was up and streaming through the crack in her curtains that she realized he wasn’t coming to her. She told herself to be relieved by that, but she wasn’t. For the first hour or so, with dazed wonder, she’d relived every passionate moment. But as he stayed away, gradually the picture in her mind changed, and she saw herself as just a body, one he’d enjoyed thoroughly. A pleasant diversion for his cock before he’d moved on to other more important things. As she’d occupied herself, she’d smelled the cigar smoke, heard the male conversation and laughter from the veranda.
In the hours alone in her bed, pleasure and possibility had been slowly, poisonously replaced by shame. She’d behaved exactly as trained, hadn’t she? Bravo to The Mistress and her intense schooling techniques.
May she and all of them rot in Hell.
Nina curled around her pillow, held it tightly, and stared at the wall until it was daylight. She’d thought about pretending she’d misunderstood his order, and taking the bedroom next to his, even if only to hear him when he came back to bed.
But she had her pride. Not to mention her resolve to stay as emotionally uninvolved as possible, resist this role in whatever way she could. Yeah, that had been a complete failure, her first night here. But she’d been vulnerable, uncertain. Tired from the overindulgence of wine.
She might need a nap later in the day to be awake for his waking hours, but for now she was too restless to stay in bed. Rising, she showered, dressed, and left her room with the intent to find Nero, see what she could do to keep her from going out of her mind with boredom.
But she wasn’t the type to avoid things, and she didn’t like spending extra moments worrying over matters that could be resolved with a good conversation. She needed to talk to Alistair.
She’d approach him tonight. Just the two of them, no vampire sex games. Even if they had to handle her virginity and third marking first. And she congratulated herself for having that thought with only a mild rash of frogs bouncing off the inside of her stomach and chest.
Just in case she could hasten things along, she went down to the lower level, to Alistair’s bedroom. But the connecting door between their rooms was closed. It was daylight; of course he’d be asleep. She didn’t intend to disturb him, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying the knob.
Locked. Sunlight was dangerous to him. Though it was dark enough and protected down here, there were plenty of reasons he had for locking his door. It didn’t have to mean he’d specifically locked her out.
Was he wrapped around Stanley in there?
Stepping into the hall, she realized something she hadn’t the first time she’d come down. There was no door to his room in the hallway. Anyone who wished to access him in his room had to come through his servant’s quarters.
A servant was intimately connected to her vampire master. Should an enemy try to get to him during daylight, the servant could sound the alarm, give the vampire that much longer to prepare for the attack.
“Servants safeguard their vampires during daylight,” Edith had told her solemnly. “There are vampire hunters out there, though most of the stories about them come from Europe and America.”
“But sometimes a rival vampire will send a human to try and catch the vampire off guard,” Melanie added. “Though that’s considered very cowardly on the part of the vampire.”
The thought of being the one who watched over Alistair’s sleep gave Nina odd feelings, which mixed with her frustration and confusion. Returning to the main level, she learned from Nero that Stanley had gone home well before dawn. She was annoyed that she felt some relief about that.
She spent the rest of the day pitching in wherever she could manage, to convince the staff to let her do something without making them feel she was interfering with their duties. When that short list was exhausted, she walked the grounds, tagging along behind the groundskeeper, JD, and his couple of assistants, offering to help pull weeds. While at first he seemed appalled at the idea of her getting dirty, she suspected he had other reasons for sending her away at his earliest opportunity. Her best guess was it had to do with the far-too-attentive way the two men hired as his temporary help watched her. She admitted they made her a little uncomfortable, too, so she wasn’t sorry. Except it left her at loose ends again.
She eventually ended up on the front veranda, staring sightlessly at one of Alistair’s books. Her fitful night at last caught up with her and she fell asleep in a rocking chair. When the book fell from her hand, it didn’t wake her. Not exactly. She had a hazy memory of someone grasping it, setting it on the table beside her. A male hand brushed her cheek, a warm mouth pressing against her temple.
“Let her sleep until she wakes. She doesn’t sleep well.”
The deep voice soothed, lulled her ba
ck into dreams. Good dreams, no nightmares.
She woke an hour after sundown. Resolutely, she grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen and headed down to Alistair’s room. Their door was standing open, the room empty. Mrs. W was making the bed and glanced at her.
“Gone already. Said he wouldn’t be back for a couple days. Has to make the rounds with some of the people he watches over.”
His InhServ was supposed to be at his side to visit vampires in his territory. Both as his assistant and, since she was supposed to be an InhServ, a visible mark of prestige that added to his authority. Since everyone probably knew her circumstances, was there no perceived advantage to him in that?
Shouldn’t she be glad that he really didn’t want much from her? No. Because she’d never appreciated feeling useless.
For the next two days, she discovered that nothing fed anxiety and irritability like boredom. She continued to help where she was allowed, but the staff had most things covered and viewed her desire to assist with suspicion. She took walks along the roads of their widespread neighborhood, planted flowers with JD on a day when he had no other help. Finding cans of bright orange paint in one of the outbuildings, she seriously considered painting Alistair’s room the lively shade.
On the third morning, when she could take it no longer, she decided to go into town with Mrs. C, as the cook had announced she needed to visit the market. Nero had frowned, but when Nina questioned him, he reluctantly admitted Alistair had left no direction on that. Though he added the stern admonition, “It could be that he didn’t anticipate you would have a need to leave the grounds.”
“I don’t. But I’ve no reason not to be helpful. Mrs. C is going to the market. I’m going to join her.”
Nero’s jaw set, as if he thought he should object on general principle, but Nina gave him a warning look. “I’m not trying to run away. I just need to get out. I’m bloody useless here right now. Mr. Coleman is driving us. It’s Brisbane, not the Outback. Give me a list of things you need for yourself and I can take care of your own market shopping for this week.”
She’d deduced from snippets of staff conversation that he didn’t have a wife. Nero gave her a narrow look. But before she departed with Mrs. C, he did give her a short list of things. A very specific one. A bag of rainbow-colored hard lollies dusted with sugar. A pretty scarf, but only in blue. And a loaf of fresh bread from a particular baker.
“He might not have a wife,” Nina murmured to herself. “But I think he has a sweetheart somewhere.” Intriguing.
The bustling activity of Brisbane was a startling contrast after the quiet serenity of Alistair’s Victorian home on the sea. The streets lined with brick buildings were filled with noisy traffic and people on the footpaths. Men strode purposefully on matters of business, while women took care of their market shopping or enjoyed a cup of tea at one of the restaurants.
She trailed Mrs. C in and out of the stores, learning where things were in case she could help her with the market shopping in the future. She also asked questions about cooking techniques. Since her lack of skill in food preparation had horrified The Mistress, Killara had admonished Nina to spend some time learning, if the opportunity presented itself.
Unfortunately, Mrs. C didn’t bother concealing her suspicion and impatience with Nina’s questions. She became increasingly more baleful in her responses. Nina was getting close to the end of her own patience, but she tried once more, asking the woman about the use of a particular spice she’d put in her basket.
“Why do you care?” the woman said, shooting her a glare that swept over Nina’s modest but obviously expensive clothes. “Himself has more money than the Almighty. I’m his cook, not you. I tend to his stomach, and you tend to lower areas, as you’re kept in style to do.”
Nina’s grip on the spice tightened in startled reflex. Mrs. C’s sharp-voiced accusation attracted the attention of several curious patrons. Nina was sure her face went red to her ears.
Until now, she’d assumed Winifred’s crass hostility was the worst of it. But away from Nero, Mrs. C had dropped the veneer, her matching scorn now obvious. Which was bad enough, but it made Nina realize why the stares of JD’s two assistants had made her uncomfortable. They’d likely been told by Winifred or Mrs. C that she was a woman with loose morals, and had been speculating on their chances of taking advantage, if they could get her off by herself. The implication made her skin crawl.
With none of them being aware of the vampire world, there was really only one explanation for Alistair, a wealthy, single male, to have her set up in his house, wasn’t there?
But did knowing about the vampire world really make a difference? Though not blatantly unfriendly like this, Mrs. W was reserved with her.
Alistair was fairly new to his Region Master role, and she’d learned from Nero he’d only recently acquired and moved into the Victorian home. He paid the staff’s wages, so earned the respect and fear that entailed, but her…she had no obvious standing in the house.
When he’d sent her to bed alone, he’d sent a message that said her influence was even less than they’d imagined. The gloves had come off all the more easily as a result, and they didn’t mind punching her directly in the face with their thoughts, rather than making any effort to conceal them. They had no way of knowing the difference between an InhServ and a woman being kept as a mistress.
She knew the difference. A man made some effort to keep a mistress happy.
“Very well.” While it took effort, she made sure she met the woman’s hostile gaze with a steady one of her own. “I’ll go for a walk.”
“We were supposed to stay together,” Mrs. C said, though she didn’t look as if she minded Nina’s idea.
“I doubt that will matter, as long as we both come home. How long will you be?”
“About an hour.”
“If I’m not back then, please ask Mr. Coleman to take you home and return for me. Thank you.”
Mrs. C’s expression flickered with something like uncertainty or regret, then hardened. “I expect you’ll tell the master I didn’t guard my tongue with you.”
“I can’t change your opinion, since it’s based on nothing you actually know about me. Getting you sacked won’t change that, will it?”
Nina didn’t wait for a reply. She turned and walked away. She thought her pace was casual, a woman strolling along the storefronts, but before long, she realized she was eating up ground as if she was one rapid heartbeat away from breaking into a run.
She’d worn sunglasses and was thankful for it, because though she refused to let tears fall, she probably had that distressed, glassy look women could get before they succumbed to such a pointless waste of emotion.
The blare of a horn startled her into a full stop. A man’s hand on her arm, his “Watch yourself now, miss,” brought her back to the present. She’d nearly stepped into traffic at a busy intersection.
She nodded, embarrassed, and he gave her a searching look before he stepped out, the intersection now clear, and left her standing there. Watching him and others walk by, some glancing at her curiously, Nina realized she needed to get hold of herself. She drew a breath, then another. Closed her eyes, tried to calm down. “She’s a stupid cow, is all,” she said to herself. “It’s about everything else, not that.”
As she oriented herself, she blanched as she realized how much ground she’d covered. She also realized where she’d been headed, though it was much too far to reach on foot. Her heart tightened in on itself, and her fists clenched.
“It’s all right.” She couldn’t tell herself she was okay, but she could tell herself it was all right. Because she was breathing, the sun was shining…
And the ground was shaking.
Her eyes popped open.
People were shouting, some pointing. Pivoting to see what they were all looking at, she noticed smoke and dust clouds billowing out from the front of a building she’d passed two blocks back. A building under renovation, she remembered, w
ith scaffolding and workers crawling over it like an ant hill.
It was a shocking indication of how deeply she’d been trapped in her own head, because the ground shaking was a resonant echo of the aftermath, not the event itself.
She saw several men stumbling free of the smoke. One fell. He was holding his face, unmistakable blood oozing between his knuckles.
She was in motion before she had to tell herself to do it. She’d fortunately worn sensible walking shoes, so covered the distance fast. This time she stepped into traffic fully cognizant that she was doing it, throwing up a hand to stop vehicles, ignoring squealing tires as she ran for where she was needed.
By the time she reached the accident site, some of the dust had cleared, but what it revealed choked her with a different kind of worry. So much building was happening in the wake of the war, as if everyone was determined to prove the world could recreate itself, make itself shiny and new again. Structures were going up so fast, the proper precautions weren’t always being taken. At the hospital she’d worked at in Sydney, they’d dealt with more than one construction accident.
The scaffolding had collapsed, and the cause wasn’t structural. Fire licking out the windows and chunks of concrete scattered across the street told her something within the building had exploded. A burst water pipe spewed, forming a hole in the smoke and dust. She’d covered her mouth with the hem of her shirt so she could breathe through the choking mix, but she dropped it when she reached the man who’d fallen to his knees. She grasped his arm and brought his hands down from his face.
“I’m a nurse,” she said, repeating it several times with the authority and volume necessary to penetrate shock. “Sit down, sir. Sit here.”
The blow to the temple had created a furrow along the side of his head. Like most scalp wounds, it was bleeding profusely. However, after stripping off her light coat to wipe and clear the field of blood, she probed the wound and determined that a skull fracture wasn’t likely. He’d need stitches and watching, but he should be fine.