Chapter Five
Inverness, June 1625, 2 years, 4 months later
The vibrant green of the Scottish hills could be almost blinding when the sun was out in full force. From her window seat, Amaia enjoyed the warmth of the sun without worrying about the human stench. She had long since learned to tolerate the smell of humans baking during the day. It wasn’t the green of the hills that held her attention, but the people.
More than two years had passed since her arrival at her new home, a castle she’d learned belonged to Zenas. Every so many years, one of his vampires would take up residence as lord and switch out the staff, travel a lot, and through it all, no one suspected that there was something not quite right with the family. Zenas found pleasure in human politics and liked to be in control. Amaia quickly discovered that his power reached into nearly every crevice of human and immortal life.
Her own interests were much more limited. She enjoyed her power over one man at a time. She had begun regular work and stayed busy at various social engagements, adorning the arm of whichever man paid enough. Though she traveled often, she enjoyed the time she spent at home.
When not entertaining clients, she studied with tutors and buried herself in books. As a mortal, her wealth had afforded her a good education, but it didn’t compare to her current undertaking. She studied every major European language. Lawrence had her schooled by a French fencing instructor to improve her movement and impart the principals of fighting. Anytime one of Zenas’s clan made a new scientific or mathematical discovery, Lawrence shared it with her. And of course, Amaia reported back the political intrigues and conspiracies she observed from her clients.
Through it all, Lawrence never let her lose sight of their goal. On her advice, Lawrence played matchmaker, using his influence to arrange marriages between humans with extraordinary auras. She had already witnessed the power of Lawrence’s plan in the energy of the resultant offspring. Not only did Lawrence request her evaluations of the mortals around her, he also urged her to attempt to manipulate the energies. On that front, she hadn’t yet been successful, although she had become proficient in brushing her energy against that of a human. It was a small first step.
She had little time left for herself, but the time she had she spent observing the world around her. At night, when she wasn’t needed, she would run to a nearby lake. The way the light of the moon bounced off the water fascinated her. The stars in the sky were countless. She would watch the nighttime animals, feeling a strange camaraderie with the only other creatures who were awake. She felt no camaraderie with the humans she watched during the day, only a fascination.
The humans below her scurried like ants, interested in only their own lives. She knew that, to them, their own problems seemed large and insurmountable. It was all meaningless. Their problems and lives existed amongst thousands. Whether or not their problems were resolved, these people would die. She might even be the one to kill them. All this fuss for nothing. How had she ever been mortal?
She spied a young man and woman, their heads close together. With concentration, Amaia picked up their whispers. They were lovers. Their families didn’t approve. They would run away together. The world had never known such love, and each would die if they didn’t give it wings to fly away. Disgusting.
How stupid did a girl have to be to give up her life for the promises of love from a man? Such promises were empty. Amaia received them on a weekly basis. Love was not a motive worth exploring. Even though she couldn’t understand them, and even despised them, she couldn’t stop watching. She felt like a child watching ants march to and fro building their fragile home.
Gray eyes flashed before her. They peered at her with a depth that she had only ever seen from those eyes. She shook her head to clear it. The eyes had appeared not long after she had settled in to her new life. Without warning, they showed themselves. Sometimes, they were warm and deep. Others, they were shallow and glassy. She hadn’t discovered the secret cue that made them appear. They unsettled her every time.
“I’m in the great hall. Come to me.”
Grateful for Lawrence’s summons, Amaia jumped from her seat. The eyes appeared less often when she was busy.
Several men occupied the great hall. She wished she had known they had company. She would have worn something more appropriate. As it was, her blue and gold dress with only her pearl ring as an accessory would have to suffice. At least her hair had been properly styled with the sides woven in intricate twists to the back of her head and the rest falling in tight curls.
“Janet, what a pleasant surprise.” Lawrence rose from his seat and took her hand, leading her into the room. His Scottish brogue was flawless, and Amaia never tired of hearing it.
“One of the servants mentioned we had some esteemed guests today. I thought it only proper that I welcome them to our home.” She took Lawrence’s proffered seat next to his around the large rectangular table that occupied one end of the hall. “You’ll have to pardon my appearance, gentlemen. I didn’t know this morning that I would be in your presence this afternoon.”
“Nonsense, my lady. You look as handsome as any woman I’ve seen. There’s no need to rub it in to us lowly men by wearing even finer jewels.” The man’s appearance did him no favors. He was too thin and gangly to be attractive. His hair was on the verge of being orange, and his beard grew in thin patches that should be shaved. He seemed to be unaware of his disadvantageous looks. His manner made it apparent that he fancied he played the political game well, and he hoped to move up in the world.
Amaia blushed, one of her more recent achievements. There was a certain trick to making the blood in her body pool in her cheeks in just the right amount to display false modesty. “You flatter me, Sir.”
“Sir Patrick here has requested the pleasure of your company at the banquet celebrating King Charles’s marriage.”
“Oh really? You support the choice of the king to marry a Catholic?” Amaia smiled at Patrick.
“No, my lady, of course not. However, he has, and it’s as good excuse as any for a holiday.”
“Yes, and an excellent opportunity to consort with the most influential men in Scotland. It should be quite the affair.”
Lawrence turned from Patrick to face Amaia. “Yes. I told him you had already been booked but that, perhaps, he might convince you to go with him instead.”
“I fear it will take much to sway me. I’m to attend with Andrew Boyne, and he is one of my favorites.” She purposely left off his title.
Banquets were even more enjoyable as a vampire. While she couldn’t subsist off food, she could still enjoy it. Like every other part of her body, her taste buds were enhanced, and eating was a novel experience. Vampires were perfectly efficient, the venom in their veins completely disintegrating the food without waste and preventing alcohol intoxication.
“Practice warming your skin. Let me know what you think of their energy.”
Practice seemed a silly word to use since she had never successfully done it, and they didn’t even know if it was possible. Lawrence had a theory that she could leech the energy from nearby humans and use it to warm her own skin. She had succeeded in reaching out and feeling their energy, but she hadn’t yet been able to warm herself with it. As it was, the only way she could heat her skin was to increase her heartbeat so the blood flowed more rapidly through her veins, just like every other vampire. It required more frequent feeding, which was inconvenient.
While their conversation continued, she reached out with her senses, grazing the energy of each man present. Patrick’s was by far the strongest, making him the easiest to use. Visualization was often the key with any new skill she learned. She felt that if she could just fix the right picture in her mind, she would be successful.
She tried picturing the rays of the sun warming her skin. If only she could get this man’s energy to act as the warmth the sun emitted, then her skin should warm.
Nothing. She felt his energy move but nothing else.<
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“Any luck?”
“No.”
“Try something else then.”
“If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”
“Don’t get cheeky with me, girl.” Lawrence’s tone was stern. Amaia focused back on her work.
A stout man to the left of Patrick slid his hands slowly together as he talked, barely aware of the action, just an absentminded gesture to keep his hands occupied. That sparked an idea. Humans constantly rubbed their hands together to keep warm. It seemed silly, but maybe if she pictured this man’s energy rubbing against her, it would work. If she could create friction with it against her skin, it just might heat.
She clasped her hands before her and reached out to feel his energy. Once she had a firm grasp on it, she fixed the image of it rubbing against her right hand in her mind. Nothing. She concentrated harder, letting the image consume her. As soon as she released herself to the visualization, she felt her right hand heat up inside her left.
“Oh!” The exclamation left her lips before she could think to stop it.
“What is it, my dear?” Lawrence put a hand on her back and peered at her.
Amaia took her right hand and placed it over his on the table. “Nothing. I suddenly felt a little dizzy.”
Lawrence smiled at the heat radiating from her hand. “Are you tired? Should you go lie down?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. I think the best solution is good company. Don’t you, Sir Patrick?”
“Certainly, my lady.”
Another hour of polite banter passed, and in that time, she was able to maintain a subtle heat throughout her body and an intense heat on small portions if she concentrated hard enough.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you. You were the one who knew it could be done.”
“This will make your work easier. Do you think you could learn to do it constantly?”
“In time, yes.”
“Good. Go upstairs and pack. Zenas has orders for us.”
Amaia was careful not to show her shock. “Gentlemen, please excuse me. I have matters to attend to.” Everyone around the table rose with her. She nodded to each man individually, lingering on Sir Patrick longer than the others, and then left. In her excitement, she found it a challenge to maintain human speed.
She had been waiting on this moment for months. Zenas had been using her as an informant. Occasionally, he ordered her to take on certain clients and report back what happened on the political landscape. She knew it was all merely a test. Scottish politics didn’t interest him much. The country was too remote for his tastes and lacked the level of wealth required for real influence.
While she packed, she wondered where Zenas would send them. She had never seen much of the world. During her time in Scotland, Lawrence had instructed her in several different languages. Had he known all along where their next destination would be? She spoke fluent French, German, Spanish, Italian, and was coming along with her Dutch. So many possibilities.
She finished quickly. Instead of summoning a maid, she simply did it herself, moving at her natural speed in the privacy of her rooms. “Are you finished yet?” It wasn’t polite for Lawrence to deliver such news without elaborating.
“Patience, dear. I’ll be along when I’m done.”
Amaia sighed as she sat back in her window seat. Would the people wherever they were going be different? She hoped so, though she didn’t think it likely. They would probably just look different and complain about their problems in foreign languages. Still, it would be interesting to see.
The lovers from before were gone. She saw an older couple working side by side to pack up their market stall. They barely spoke, but when they did, it was with smiles. Amaia reached out to their energy. It was happy, content, and there was a love there, even if it lacked the heated passion of the young lovebirds.
While Amaia could identify these emotions, she couldn’t comprehend them. How did they feel? How could one person attach so much to another equally weak flesh-and-blood person? She knew she had loved Michael, but how strong could love be if she had killed him? Was it love that prompted her to keep wearing his engagement ring? She harbored no sadness where Michael was concerned. She had simply moved into a different state of being. A better state.
Lawrence finally joined her, interrupting her thoughts. “I see you didn’t wait on a maid.” He looked meaningfully at the packed trunks and bags.
“There didn’t seem to be a point. I thought when Zenas calls, it’s up to us to jump to obey.”
Lawrence didn’t rise to the bait. “It is. He wants us in Frankfurt. The religious fervor in the area grows too hot for his tastes. There are whispers that witch hunts will soon commence. We need to do what we can to stop it. The systematic burning of people doesn’t bode well for our kind. We’ll travel as humans, but once we land in France, your name will change to Maria.”
It was tiresome always being called by a different name. She wanted to just be Amaia. Surely there had to be more to life than only being able to be herself around Lawrence.
“When do we leave?”
“Tonight. How did Patrick’s energy feel? Different from the others?” Lawrence always thought Amaia would be able to perceive something he couldn’t.
“Not much different, no. Just stronger. It’s a pity I haven’t found a woman with a decent energy for him to breed with.”
“Hmm. We can revisit his line later. But you did well warming yourself. I want you to try to keep doing it. I hope that it will eventually become second nature to you. If it does, you’ll be able to blend in perfectly.”
“I’ll work on it. It took a fair amount of concentration.”
“Well, time is something you have plenty of.”
“Have you told Zenas?” Amaia focused on Lawrence, hoping to discern the truthfulness of his answer.
“No. There’s no sense telling him until we’re sure you can keep doing it.”
Amaia wondered if Lawrence knew that his lies were so easy for her to see through. Probably not, otherwise he wouldn’t tell them. If Zenas was aware of this new development, he would insist she teach it to others. It would endanger Lawrence’s long-term plans. She didn’t doubt that one day Lawrence would break from his sire. Zenas had been foolish to let her and Lawrence live. He had let his love for Lawrence and his thirst for Amaia’s knowledge blind him. He was weak.
But there was no time to think about any of that. It didn’t matter that she was going to Frankfurt to spy for a man she didn’t respect. She, an orphan who had gone from scullery maid to prostitute to courtesan to vampire, was crossing the Channel into a whole new chapter of her existence.
Chapter Six
Cadiz, February 1644, 18 years, 8 months later
The sand at the coast had been baked by the sun until it felt absolutely luxurious against Amaia’s feet. Even though the air had the slight chill of winter, the sand soaked up whatever heat the sun rained down. The sound of the waves rhythmically flowing in and out soothed her. Since it was the off season, no one else used the beach. Salt water, fish, and the smell that Amaia had discovered came from seaweed were the only scents that tinged the air. This was paradise.
Home at the moment was Paris, and had been for more than five years. They were only in Spain on holiday. While she enjoyed the seclusion and the break from her work, she loved Paris. Out of all her homes, it was her favorite. Years ago, she had dreamed of eloping to Paris with Michael. The visions she had conjured of the city were true. Life was so different there. People, or at least the class of people Amaia associated with, were obsessed with beauty. One of her first engagements had been at the exquisite new palace of Cardinal Richelieu. She had quickly moved up from the baron she had accompanied that first night and eventually rose into the confidence of Cardinal Richelieu himself and his successor, Cardinal Mazarin. Life was idyllic.
Their stay in Frankfurt had been short. The witch trials had been unstoppable, even with the influence of Zena
s’s gold. From there they had gone to Florence, then Brussels, and now Paris. Amaia worried they would have to move soon. There were practical reasons, of course. The fact that she didn’t age would eventually draw attention. Still, it didn’t make the transitions easier. She loved traveling. She just hated having to leave home. There was no point worrying. It could still be a few more years. But a year wasn’t such a long time anymore.
“Amaia, come back to the house. It’s time we left.”
With a sigh, she picked up her shoes and placed them back on her feet. They had found a quaint little fisherman’s cottage on the beach, killed the family, and taken up residence for their holiday. This was supposed to be a break for them, a time to relax. She had expected at least another week. The walk back to their beach cottage was a short one, even at a human pace. The hem of her dress was wet, but she didn’t mind. The silky feel of the water on her ankles had been worth it.
A subtle and strange energy brought her up short three hundred yards from the house. Two energies to be precise. Vampires. In her twenty-one years as a member of the undead, she had learned to read their energies as well as she could read those of humans. Vampires were rare visitors. They were usually from Zenas’s clan and arrived with advance notice from their leader.
Amaia lowered her fangs and braced herself for a fight, should one ensue. “Show yourselves. I know you’re there.”
A second later, two vampires emerged from behind an outcropping of rocks that jutted into the ocean. One seemed to be a woman in her early thirties with plain features and blue eyes framed by dark blonde hair. Her face was open, and her aura clear. “I’m Meg, and this is Liam.”
She gestured to the man beside her. He appeared younger by a few years. He had a strong build, and his blond hair and blue eyes were a shade lighter than Meg’s. His aura was closed off and his expression guarded.
Haunting Echoes Page 4