by Claire Cray
"What a talented fellow!" I exclaimed. "Did you see his cravat?"
"I did." Merrick seemed mildly amused by my enthusiasm.
"You made a fine choice. I'll bet my new suit he's on the brink of fame."
"I would not be surprised."
I could have prattled on. The tailor had made quite an impression on me, and I found myself revisiting his image in my mind's eye, his gray eyes and warm, healthy skin. Delicious. Though it would almost be a shame to mess up that impeccable knot at his collar...
"William." Merrick interrupted my train of thought. "It's time to move on from Boston."
"Oh!"
"Have you given any thought as to where you might like to go?"
"I'm afraid it slipped my mind, but I'm sure we'll find the right course. Shall we always move so quickly?"
"It depends. With extreme caution, we may stay indefinitely. But it's best to leave before our interactions make a mark on the area."
"Our interactions." I couldn't help repeating. "I see." Merrick's highly obtuse way of describing our nightly hunts always stood out to me. There was never any blunt talk of what it was that we did. Only our activities. Our habits. Sometimes I was not even sure whether he was speaking in metaphor or if I had simply lost track of the conversation. "Well, then, I suppose we ought to stay in the cities."
"Cities are best."
I thought for a while as we walked. To my surprise, I had no desire yet to depart for Europe. Perhaps Theo's tales of horror at sea were too fresh in my memory. Where was Theo now, anyway? It seemed to me that he wouldn’t leave us alone until he had personally verified that the deed was done. But perhaps Merrick's letter to me had been enough for him, and he’d be moving on at last. He had no reason to remain in New York, and had never seemed particularly fond of New England. Maybe he would head south to the warm and languid climates of the southern states, or even to French territories. But after tolerating his presence for so many months within his reach, it was hard to shake the feeling that he might pop out of the shadows at any moment.
What would he think of me as a vampire? Would he treat me differently? It was queer to think of the times we'd met before my transformation, now that I knew how very literally he had considered me a different species. Perhaps he’d be less of a bastard toward me now. Then again, probably not. After all, Merrick still hated him, or so he had the last time I’d checked...
"Providence, perhaps?"
"Ah, yes," I said, shaking off my thoughts. "Providence seems a fine choice."
"We'll leave once Mr. Beekman has finished."
It was only half past nine, and yet at the thought of Mr. Beekman, my teeth lit up in my mouth and I felt the urge to yawn. I had to remind myself that he was to make our suits. That he would not be able to finish our suits if we killed him. I brushed the sharp tip of a canine with my tongue, careful not to pierce myself, and was surprised to taste a hint of venom. It seemed early in the night for my thirst to be advancing so quickly. I cleared my throat. "Merrick?"
"You're thirsty."
I blinked at him. "Is it so obvious?"
"I sensed it before we stepped outside." Merrick slowed his pace. "You were quite interested in Mr. Beekman."
"Ah." I felt my cheeks grow warm, which was surprising. "Yes, I found him quite charming."
Merrick's voice was very low as we walked in the dark near Beacon Hill. "Would you like to go back?"
"Back—back to Beekman's?" My teeth tingled, and I ordered myself not to run my tongue along them again. Merrick would notice. "Tonight? No, no. I want him to finish our suits."
"And then?"
And then I wanted to bite him. The answer seemed far too obvious, and I withheld it a bit warily. "What do you mean to ask me?"
Merrick slowly came to a halt, and I with him, on the edge of the broad street. The moon was quite full, and the oak trees up and down the way made bold, snake-like shadows on the cobblestones around us. Merrick's eyes always looked loveliest out of doors at night, and they held me easily now. "I mean to ask," he said gently, "if you’re attracted to him."
"Well!" I exclaimed, puffing up slightly, though I was fairly certain Merrick was only using that word as a stand-in for you want to drink his blood.
"I don't mean to presume."
"Well, yes, I suppose I would like to find a way to..." Draw him close and suck on his neck. But we did not speak in such terms, did we? I groped for a delicate phrase of the kind Merrick preferred. "He is a very talented tailor," I finished lamely.
"As I said, attraction breeds thirst. You admired Mr. Beekman, and tonight you'll thirst for him." Merrick studied me. "You must remember your affection is lethal."
Well, that was harsh. I felt flushed and restless, and not in a pleasurable way. "Merrick, am I meant to feel sorry about...about what I am inclined to do?"
Merrick looked down at the ground between us, silent for a moment. At last he said, "We are creatures of instinct. We are predators. But we are still people, who were born and came of age with them. They are still our kin."
"Well, yes." It was a rather loose use of the word kin, but I thought I understood his meaning. Didn't I still think warmly of my countrymen? Indeed, I felt very close to these delightful creatures, and had very fond memories of those I had known. And I certainly wanted them all to flourish. Of course I did! Any gardener likes to see the flowers in bloom.
"And we do live among them." Merrick wasn't finished. "There must be harmony between us."
"Certainly," I said, though rather uncertainly. How many ways could one define harmony? Things seemed straightforward enough: We woke, we dallied, we killed under cover of darkness, we made love, we slept, and we awoke to revel in the night again. Harmony made itself, no?
Merrick studied me. "We must treat them well, as a people. We mustn't feed upon them carelessly. Even though we may be drawn to the best of their societies."
"I see." But I was no less perturbed. While I had the sense to comprehend this lesson in self-restraint, my spirit wanted to revolt. I knew that Mr. Beekman was a charming man who would go on to make many fine suits; unfortunately, I didn't care about that nearly as much as I wanted to take his lanky body into my arms and sink my teeth into his throat. There would be other talented tailors, after all! It wouldn't be the end of the world if I shared a special moment with this one, would it?
But Merrick was trying to impress a bit of discipline upon me, and so I grudgingly forced myself back into the role of the apprentice. "All right. I shall leave him alone."
"If it is not too difficult," Merrick murmured, and lightly put an arm about my back for a moment to start us walking again.
I tried not to frown.
That night we drank a pair of sailors, and for the first time, I felt some disappointment in the act. Sated, yes, for a drink was a drink, but disappointed nonetheless. As the seaman slid down my chest and onto the ground, I thought of Mr. Beekman, his nervous smile, and his clean scent.
Christ, the things I was willing to do for a good suit.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"You’re not satisfied?" Merrick asked as we made our way from the harbor.
"I'm satisfied." That was almost a lie, I realized with vague surprise. I hadn’t intended it that way, but for some reason, I was decidedly less than eager to discuss my thirst for the tailor with Merrick.
"Perhaps you'd prefer a woman."
I looked at him in alarm. "What the Devil do you mean?"
"To drink," Merrick said with a breath of laughter, and then, gently, "You are fond of women, William, are you not?"
"I—well! I suppose." Why was Merrick confounding me so much tonight? "Or I have been on occasion. Or I was once. I don't know." In fact we had not seen many to speak of. Unlike in New York, which was more liberal than the rest of New England in that respect, the good women of Boston stayed mostly indoors. They were not among the patrons of the upscale coffee houses and taverns we had frequented most nights, and we had not interacted
much with the bar maids.
"The fixation on Beekman will pass," Merrick said. "If you give it time, and if you find another way to indulge your tastes. A charming lady, for example."
"I say, this suddenly seems rather complicated." I was only half-joking. "Tell me, does Theo exercise half the restraint you do?"
Merrick's mood darkened at once, a fact I could hear in his curt reply. "No."
I hesitated but a moment before I prodded, "Is that why you are at odds?"
"Would I be a fool to ask that you let the subject rest a while?"
I glanced his way with a frown. "The subject of Theo?" Had I not let the subject rest for weeks? "You wouldn't be a fool, no. I will leave it alone, as you wish."
Merrick was silent, and so we walked without speaking for several blocks. Long after I thought that was the end of it, he said, "Theo and I see the world differently."
I perked up a little, but tried not to show it. "How were you ever friends?"
"We’re not like humans. We don't stay the same for the entirety of our lives. We change."
"So you were different when you met. Was he not always such a callous bastard?"
"No."
I raised a brow. "No?"
"There was a time when I could tell you many good things about him."
"And now?"
"Now I will not."
There was no malice in Merrick's voice, but there was no mercy, either. His clear determination to leave Theo behind troubled me in a way I couldn’t explain, not even to myself. It wasn't as if I felt any loyalty toward Theo. Did I? I certainly wasn't fond of him. But something about their feud continued to nag me. I just couldn’t leave it alone. "I do believe he hopes you’ll forgive him, Merrick."
That earned me an inscrutable glance and a beat of silence before Merrick said, "He has no place in our lives."
I frowned again, speaking cautiously. "Yet if it were not for him..."
"That doesn’t matter now."
"Merrick." I could no longer hide my frustration. Between my unsatisfied thirst for Mr. Beekman and Merrick's sudden return to secrecy, this wasn’t my favorite evening so far.
Apparently I wasn’t alone. Merrick sounded more displeased than I was, asking, "Does he weigh so heavily on your mind?"
For a moment I shut my mouth. But he asked, so I’d answer. "Nothing has weighed heavily on my mind these past two weeks. But the thought of Theo troubles me, yes. I don't understand the feud, and it troubles me."
We were back at the townhouse now, and Merrick opened the door to let us in. I followed him to the parlor, frowning the whole way. Perhaps I’d been spoiled by the loving splendor that had stretched on since our reunion, but I was quite disgruntled to feel the mood go dim between us. And on Theo’s account, no less! Even from a distance, the stupid twit was a pain in my ass.
Settling down in one of the velvet chairs, I lit the nearest lamp and watched Merrick sit on the closest end of the sofa, brooding. He did brood handsomely, his brow furrowed and his amber eyes smoldering, but it wasn’t as if I could enjoy it. Particularly when I knew that no one affected him in such a way but Theo.
With a sigh, I went to the sideboard and poured us each a glass of claret. "I don't mean to make you unhappy," I remarked. "I only want to understand. The man is insufferable, but he does seem to care about you."
Merrick was quiet, staring to his side at the cold fireplace. "I was not aware he had made such an impression on you at the cottage."
"At the cottage?” I rounded the sofa to hand him a glass. “No, I hardly spoke to him there."
Amber eyes slid back to me, sharpening, and for a moment he was perfectly still, leaving me holding both drinks in confusion. At last he reached, almost mechanically, for his glass.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, disarmed.
"May I suggest you have a limited understanding of his motives?"
"I don't pretend otherwise. But you told me yourself how he wrote to you all these years, begging you to save yourself. If he doesn't truly care for you, Merrick, he's a devoted actor."
"And this is why you would like me to make peace with him?"
I felt I was being interrogated, and my patience cracked. How could I answer to matters I knew nothing about? I was the one with the questions! "How could I ask you to make peace with him?" I replied. "I don't know what he's done!"
"I assumed you knew enough of his character not to miss his company. Did he not conspire to have you attacked, bound, and taken from the city? Did he not force you to his will with no regard for your wishes?"
"Yes, and I’ve wanted to sock him in the mouth many times since then. But—"
Merrick interrupted. "Many times since?"
"Of course! I've never met the fellow without wanting to flatten him. It seems his greatest joy in life is to needle me until I..." I trailed off as Merrick leaned forward on the sofa, his jaw tense and his eyes dark with anger. "What?"
"How many times?"
"I don't recall," I stammered, disarmed. "A handful of occasions. Not half a dozen, I reckon. Why? What's the matter?"
Merrick's eyes were fixed on mine, and fury emanated from him like smoke. "Where?"
"In New York, of course," I said warily. "It's a long walk between Greenwich and the city. We had a few exchanges along the way, from time to time. I saw him just before I came here, in fact."
"And you never thought to inform me of these encounters?"
"Well, no. You go black at the sound of his name." I watched in alarm as he stood up and turned away. "But it was no secret, Merrick," I said worriedly, rising to my feet as he moved to the window. "You knew he was in the city, and he’s a meddling prick. Did you not think we’d cross paths?"
Merrick was silent, his back rigid as he stared out into the night. I hadn’t seen him in this state since the year before, when I’d accidentally poisoned myself in his cottage and he’d mistaken it for a suicide attempt. Finally he asked, "Did he ever bite you again?"
"Of course not!” I exclaimed, outraged at the thought. “I would have told you at once!"
“I’m glad to hear it.” Not that he sounded glad in the slightest. Slowly turning from the window, he fixed his darkened eyes on me. "I want you to forget him."
"I don't understand why you’re so disturbed. You never forbade me to speak to him."
Merrick shook his head. "I forbid you nothing."
"But I respect your wishes." Well, except for the one time, but that was neither here nor there. "And I'd have told you if I thought it mattered. I'm sorry.”
"It's not your fault. I was a fool to believe him when he said he would let you be." Merrick's hand had curled into a fist at his side, but now he slowly relaxed and shifted his glass from one hand to the other. "It doesn't matter now,” he said with a shake of his head. “Please forget him."
"How can I forget him?” After this conversation? Preposterous! “He's the only other vampire I know of, and I'm sure we haven't seen the last of him."
"Are you certain he never bit you again?"
"How could I be uncertain?" I raised my voice without meaning to. "For God's sake, you’re talking in circles around me!"
Merrick studied me for a moment, his expression still tense. But then he came to me slowly and laid a hand on my shoulder. "You can’t understand," he said quietly. "And it would confound you further if I tried to explain. I wouldn’t know where to begin."
This again? I mussed my own hair, scraping up what patience I had left. "I'll help you, then. Why must I forget him? Tell me one reason. You don't have to give me all three centuries' worth. Just one reason, Merrick. Or do you really hope to leave me in the dark forever?"
Merrick made a soft sound of pain that caught me by surprise. As I spoke, the fury in his eyes had given way to anguish. His hand tightened on my shoulder for a moment, then fell away as he turned from me. I watched him set his glass on the side table and sink down into the sofa like a broken man. Leaning forward, his head hanging, he clasped
his hands clasped loosely before his brow, almost as if in prayer.
“I did hope to leave it in the dark,” he murmured, not lifting his head. “But that isn’t fair, is it? I ask for your trust, and you oblige. I demand your life, and you give it.”
I grimaced faintly. “We may see things somewhat differently.”
“You ask so little of me.” Merrick seemed not to hear me. “But of course you want the truth. And I will have to give it up, won’t I? Even if it’s ten years from now.”
I blanched. Ten years? God help me. Should I have known he’d want to keep his inner fortress barred, even now? Was I a fool to think he’d share his life with me now, that he’d understand my desire to know him as well as he knew me?
Maybe I would have to adjust my aim. Didn’t I have his full attention, his affection and his company night after night? Maybe that was all he’d ever been prepared to give. If Merrick wanted to leave his past behind, that was his right. What was I supposed to do about it? Beg, cajole and command him to unravel himself for me? I was already weary of that game. I looked down with a private sigh, deflated, but perked up slightly when he spoke again at last.
“I can’t give you one reason,” Merrick said quietly. “There isn’t any single reason that isn’t tied to another.”
“That is often the case,” I offered, hopeful that he’d continue.
“But isn’t the most recent offense enough?”
I frowned again. “No. I’m afraid I’d rather you forgave him for it.”
Merrick looked sharply at me, horrified. “Why in God’s name would I forgive him for it?”
I bristled further. “For making sure you’d turn me?”
“For drinking your blood!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I stood gaping at Merrick, trying to wrap my mind around what he had just said. That was why Merrick’s eyes went cold at the sound of Theo’s name? Because he had once drunk my blood? I tried to remember the last time I’d even thought of that incident. My God, that was not at all the reason I’d expected.
"Do you not recall the incident?" Merrick spoke softly now, rising from the sofa and slowly approaching the window where I stood.