"Yes, madam," Bridget responded. The voices moved past the staircase and receded into the kitchen at the back of the house. Like lightning, Fiona bolted down the stairs and out of the house. She hurried down the street, looking behind her occasionally. When she'd crossed the street, she slowed down.
Rose would go to Ursula and attempt to draw blood from her. But without vampire fangs, Rose would not be able to do it. She would come back to Fiona, giving her a chance to bite her again. And again. And then it would be done. Rose would transform and they would be together for eternity.
The only problem Fiona anticipated was how she would explain what she was to Rose. What would she say? Rose, I'm a vampire. I've been a vampire for a very long time. This was the only detail she hadn't yet been able to work out.
Fiona stopped at the north end of the park and looked toward Rose's house just as she felt a hot moistness seep into her veins. It was Rose herself who was seeping into her veins, and skin, and tissue. Rose had asked more questions than she'd anticipated, but her innocence was working in Fiona's favor. That's what Fiona had been counting on.
WHEN ROSE AWOKE, she found Bridget staring down at her, creases deeply etched into her brow and around her eyes.
"Miss Rose." Bridget exhaled deeply, putting a hand to her breast. "Oh, thank the good lord you're all right. "You've been sleeping so long, I was worried to death. Are you ill?"
Rose sat up and the bright sunshine streaming in drew her eyes to the window. She'd never gotten drunk but she surmised that this was what one felt like after a night of drinking as she'd heard her father say. Rubbing her head, she asked Bridget what time it was.
"Why, it's nearly nine o'clock, miss. You've never slept this late. That's why I thought you were ill. Are you?"
Rose wasn't entirely sure she wasn't. She felt strange. A little queasy, a little weak, a little feverish. But not enough of any of those things to really complain. "No, Bridget. I'm all right. I just...exerted myself too much yesterday and just needed a little extra rest." She looked up at Bridget, whose eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Why are you still in your clothes?"
Rose looked down at her dress. "Oh, I just fell asleep before I could change into my night things, I suppose." She forced a nonchalant smile. Bridget just looked at her, so she sat up in an effort to pull herself together.
"Where's Mother?"
"She went out early this morning on some errands. In fact, she told me to tell you that she wants you to practice your piano today. She wants you to play at her soiree." She leaned over to help Rose up. As Rose stood, her collar, open at the front, flopped down.
"Miss Rose! What is that?" Bridget's features displayed a horror that scared Rose but that sparked a resolve in her as well. At that moment, the seriousness of what she was doing became clear. So did the need to keep it quiet.
She fixed the collar to cover her wound. "I tripped and fell, and one of my knitting needles jabbed me right in the neck. Isn't that something?" She threw a light laugh at Bridget, hoping it would put her mind at ease and nip her curiosity in the bud.
But Bridget was never one to be easily fooled, and when her stare grew hard and troubled, Rose's heart almost stopped.
"I never saw Miss Keane leave last night," Bridget said as she slowly looked around the room, as if looking for something amiss.
Rose pretended to be busy with some papers on her desk to avoid taking off her clothes in front of Bridget. She knew Bridget was waiting for her to undress so she could help her with her morning ablutions. But to tell Bridget that she wanted to be alone would have raised suspicion.
"Well, she got a headache quite suddenly and so we were very quiet. She left early." She had no idea if what she said made any sense, but she didn't know how else to placate Bridget.
"Bridget, I could really use your help," said Rose. "Please find my blue gloves. I took them off in the parlor downstairs and I haven't seen them since." The housekeeper didn't move. "I want to wear my blue paisley dress today, so I'd like those gloves. Please."
Bridget gave her a stern glare, then turned and left.
Rose watched the door close and remained frozen, staring at its dark wood for a long moment. She stared so long that the striations of the wood began undulating. She blinked and looked away, her heart beating fast and hard.
Bridget knew something was happening. Rose had known her long enough to recognize her moods and thoughts.
She would have to be careful from this point on.
Chapter Seventeen
THE FIRST OF the three bites was accomplished. Fiona had planned her mission for so long, the anticipation had become an almost tangible part of her life. Every day had been filled with thoughts of the plan, including revisions and doubts. Oh, yes, there had been many doubts. Not only about if the plan would work, but whether she should be carrying it out. About whether Rose would behave as Fiona expected. But most of all, about whether Rose would forgive her. This last question burned in Fiona's mind like a bonfire. But there was no turning back now. The plan had taken on a life of its own, and even if Fiona were inclined to stop it, she didn't believe she could. She'd invested too much in it.
Too much time, yes, but time was something of which she had plenty to spare.
Too much energy. She'd suffered physically, but she would recover eventually.
Too much hope. That's the one she couldn't let go of easily, because even though time heals all wounds, time could also be cruel, allowing the wounds to fester. Eternity was a long time in which to suffer.
She just hoped and prayed that God, or whatever forces there may be, would take pity and make Rose's transition easy on both of them. And that what happened between her and Susanna would not happen between her and Rose.
Fiona's escape from Susanna hadn't been easy and she carried the pain of it with her every day. It was the memories of Susanna, good and bad, that often dictated her actions. Sometimes, she did things in spite of the lessons she'd learned from Susanna. But only when she had no other options.
Fiona had been a vampire for a hundred years at the time of her separation from Susanna and it had taken her almost that long to adjust to being one. It took her years before she would not get sick at the thought of drinking human blood. She fought against her mortal sense of righteousness until, finally, she accepted that this was what she was.
Still, her old human sensibilities continued the struggle to survive inside her new construct. She, in fact, fought to keep them alive. Her humanity was something she did not want to lose.
As she was introduced to the members of the local vampire society, it became clear that the majority of them easily and gladly let go of that part of themselves, shed it like a snake sheds its skin. It was no hardship to ignore the suffering of humans...it didn't impact them. Why should a vampire care if a human suffers? Well, why would a human care if an animal suffers? Of course, there were plenty of humans who didn't care, but many did. It was the same with vampires and humans. At least that's the way it should be, Fiona believed.
Although, she had to admit that her compassion was tested whenever she heard stories about human hatred toward vampires. She understood humans' aversion to them, understood the religious, moral, and psychological significance of vampires in the human world. But she wished that mortals would understand that just because one was a vampire, one was not inherently bad. It was the arrogant ones who did bad things. They were the ones who gave vampires a bad name.
But despite everything she'd experienced, the one thing she could not get over was Susanna's betrayal. Fiona knew deep down that Susanna had turned her into a vampire not to bestow a gift but to ensure her own happiness. Even if Fiona had come to love being a vampire...which she hadn't...it was Susanna's selfishness and traitorous actions that angered her. Susanna had treated her like an animal, something to be possessed and mastered. Over those one hundred years, she had stayed with Susanna, at first out of necessity. What Susanna could teach her, she learned. What Susanna di
dn't know yet herself, they learned together. Within two years, they were both self-sufficient. After that, Fiona stayed because Susanna would not let her go.
They continued to live in the same flat they had shared as mortals and every day was another in a long prison sentence.
Fiona had tried to leave three times and each time, Susanna had tracked her down and forced her to return. The first time, she had tried simply packing up her things and walking out of the house. Susanna stopped her at the door and looked into her eyes with such fierceness that Fiona merely turned around and went back in, wordlessly. The second time, she tried facing Susanna and telling her outright that she was leaving. Susanna eloquently convinced her that she would be happier staying.
The third time, Susanna had found Fiona opening her valise on their bed.
"What are you doing?" Susanna had asked, making Fiona jump.
Fiona wasn't sure what it was that she still feared about Susanna. She could no longer physically harm her, could do no worse than she had already done. Yet something about Susanna still frightened her and kept Fiona bound to her. But she was finished clinging to a woman who had betrayed her, and to a love that no longer existed.
"I'm leaving," Fiona said, turning back to her task.
"Why?"
Fiona hesitated. There was no precise answer she could give Susanna, only that she no longer wanted to be with her. "I just don't want to be here anymore."
Susanna took a few steps forward and kept her voice even. "You tried leaving before. It didn't work, did it?"
"Well," Fiona stammered. "Things were different then. You were able to stop me. You had power over me." Fiona's anger grew with each word she sputtered and she began throwing her garments into the embroidered bag, making them land in a crumpled heap, one on top of the other.
Susanna stood right behind her now and put her hands gently on Fiona's arms. She spoke softly. "Haven't I done everything for you? Haven't I tried very hard to make you happy? I've given you a nice home. You want for nothing. I've taught you everything that I've learned, introduced you to important people. And, oh, yes," she chuckled, "I gave you everlasting life."
Fiona angrily shrugged Susanna's hands off her, tossed the last of her clothing into the bag, pulled the straps together and buckled them. "I have never asked you for anything," she said through gritted teeth. "Nothing but your faithfulness."
Susanna stepped back, a stunned look on her face. "But I have been faithful. There's been no one but you!"
Fiona wondered if becoming a vampire not only took away your humanity but your scruples as well.
"You just don't understand, do you?" Fiona spun around to face her sire and one-time lover. "Faithfulness is not just about fidelity. It's also about trust. Trusting that the one you love will do what's best for you...not what's best for her."
Susanna ran her hands across the blue silk sash that wrapped around her waist, as if inspecting herself for a wound. As if Fiona's words had ripped through her gut.
Fiona pushed her way past a speechless Susanna and went out of their home.
She was not afraid of the darkness or the creatures, human or otherwise, that lurked in it. As she walked through the streets of Brighton, she took in the distant sounds of owls, crickets, and the occasional footfall of a human. She still remembered that day well. The air was thick with the smell of summer stagnation, the slick feel of moisture, and the taste of salt rolling off the English Channel.
Heading for the only place she could think of, she came to a decision. She would not live the rest of her life angry and resentful. She couldn't. It would be beyond torment, worse than everything she'd been taught Hell would be.
Within hours, she'd walked her way to Nottingham. It would have taken her less time but she'd never gone there and was unsure of the way. She turned onto Queen's Drive, then made another left and walked up the darkened road to the red brick house on the corner. It was three in the morning, so she knew he'd be up. But would he be in?
Rapping lightly on the door, not wanting to disturb any of the neighbors, she looked around at Ramon's street. Had he always lived here, or had he chosen this town for a reason?
Her head snapped forward when the door opened. Standing there was the man Susanna had introduced to her years before, and who had been a mentor to her and Susanna for a time.
"Fiona," Ramon said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Ramon was a well-bred man and Fiona knew that he instantly realized how rude a thing that was to say. "I'm sorry. Please," he said, "won't you come in?"
Ramon had been fifty-two when he'd become a vampire, and he went through existence in a perpetual state of dapperness and with the appeal of a dashing older gentleman. With the help of graying temples and silver streaks running through his black hair, it was a look he cultivated. Young women and men found him irresistible and he not only got his ego stroked regularly, but he rarely had to hunt for a meal.
Ramon's home was tasteful, as was his attire. He had on a three-piece, charcoal-gray suit with a maroon tie. Tucked into the lower left-hand pocket of his vest was a watch, hanging from a gold chain. Ramon lifted it out of its slot and looked at it. "Three a.m. My favorite hour," he said, smiling. "It's wonderful to see you. But considering how far you've come, I doubt this is a purely social visit." He gestured toward a sofa, where she moved to sit. "What can I do for you?"
She fidgeted with her dress, trying to find a way to say what she wanted. The entire way over, she thought about it, came up with a half-dozen strategies, but as she sat in Ramon's living room, none of them seemed right. She took a deep breath, then told Ramon what she needed.
"I need help with Susanna."
"What kind of help?"
She dropped her gaze to the ground, ashamed of what she was about to ask him. Her gaze went to a beeswax candle, then stopped on a cut crystal bowl filled with different colored pieces of candy. It seemed absurd for a vampire to have candy on his coffee table, but any semblance of normalcy helps a vampire to pass.
With her head hung low, Fiona replied, "She won't release me." She hoped that Ramon would understand.
After regarding her for a moment, comprehension lit his eyes. "Are you sure about this? What you are asking is generally frowned upon in our society." Ramon squinted at Fiona as he crossed his legs nonchalantly.
She knew he meant vampire society, not human society. Humans would probably cheer what she was proposing. Vampires, if they found out...and she was quite sure they would...would not take it well.
Ramon was ruthless when he had to be. His reputation alone kept him in the position of one of the community's leaders. Other vampires both revered and feared him. He had mastered the skills and powers bestowed upon vampires and he was teacher and mentor to many. But he was also known to be kind and understanding and it was these qualities she was counting on to gain his support.
"Ramon," she said and cleared her throat. "You know that she turned me against my will."
He nodded.
"Now she is keeping me against my will."
He studied her for a moment. "How is she doing that? She holds no power over you. She possesses no power that you do not."
How could she explain to him how Susanna was keeping her, holding her, preventing her from leaving? Although she had left their flat, Fiona knew that eventually, somehow, Susanna would pull her back. She always did. He was right. Susanna had no physical power over her and had no tangible means of making her stay. There was no logical explanation.
"She does have power over me." She struggled to find the words that could describe Susanna's hold on her. It was not magical, nor hypnotic. But, whatever it was, it was strong. "She...she possesses me."
He kept his gaze steady on her and didn't move, except for one forefinger, which he tapped slowly on the chair arm. The elongated fingernail made a tick, tick, tick sound.
"Fiona," he said at last, "I understand what you are saying, and I understand what you are asking. I want to make sure t
hat you understand what it means. I'm going to ask you again." He paused and rubbed his smooth cheek, the flame from the candle glinting off his large ruby ring. "Are you sure?"
She hesitated for a moment, not sure she wanted to commit herself to something that would be irreversible. The memories of Susanna as she'd once been still lived in a part of her mind and heart. But how many times had she allowed her sentimentality to rule her actions and been reminded of Susanna's callousness? Susanna still did not see what she had done wrong or how she had hurt her. She laughed at her pain and made a mockery of what had once been their love. And by not letting her go, Susanna had proven that she felt no remorse, and never would. Fiona had to set herself free.
"Yes."
Ramon got up and paced the room a couple of times, running the edge of his nail through his neatly trimmed beard. The few silver hairs that had made their way onto his face in his last mortal days remained there. He stopped by the fireplace and looked intently at a silver candlestick. It seemed as if he'd gone into a trance, then just as quickly, came out of it.
"You've been a member of our ranks for a little while now, Fiona. I've taught you much about what we are, how we live, and how we die." He turned and looked at her. "You know what needs to be done. Why do you need me?"
She pushed herself to the edge of the chair, guilt and despair prickling the ends of her nerves. "Because I can't do it by myself. I love Susanna."
"Yet you want to kill her."
Ramon's words shot through Fiona's just as sharply as a knife blade. She slouched and hung her head. "She is not the Susanna that I fell in love with. I loved her the way she was, not the way she is."
"She loves you, however."
Fiona could feel her very spirit hardening. Or, whatever it was she had inside now. Her resolve strengthened, she got up and walked toward him. "Susanna loves only herself now."
Ramon looked her in the eyes, nodded, then turned and walked into the other room, leaving her by the fireplace. She turned and looked at the silver candlestick. It had some sort of inscription etched into its base. Before she could read it, Ramon came back into the room, a flat, long wooden box in his hands. He placed it carefully on the table, sat down in his chair, and stared at the box. "Please sit."
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