Serafina and the Silent Vampire

by Marie Treanor

  As Ferdy and his companion ran for it, limping and lumbering across the lawn to the back fence, Sera kicked another landing vampire in the groin and spun around, stake at the ready, to face the next threat.

  Instead, she faced Nicholas Smith.

  She paused, the stake poised to attack.

  “You can’t,” he said in a slightly strange voice. “Can you?”

  It seemed she couldn’t. At least not while he stood still and made no move to attack her. Instead, she stood there, letting the other vampires jump from the windows and surround her.

  “Who were the others?” Nicholas said, as a couple of vampires broke ranks and moved toward the back of the garden.

  “No idea. They weren’t with me.”

  “It was my dad,” said Jason Bell without emotion.

  Bugger. Would they go after the Bells now? It was possible, but she had a more immediate problem. A circle of vampires was closing in on her. Nearly all their fangs showed; some were actually drooling, like slavering dogs.

  Arthur, the chief vampire, reached for her. From instinct, she hurled herself out of the way, toward the only other human present.

  “You can’t let them! You can’t!” she said incoherently, clutching at Nicholas Smith’s arm. And if he didn’t help her, she could use him, maybe, as some kind of human shield. She still had a very sharp stake to compel him with.

  But again, he took her by surprise. He patted her shoulder, and she realized his hands were shaking. “My dear, I don’t control them,” he said sadly.

  Sera froze. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face. Yes, you do. Oh yes, you fucking do. He wasn’t some kind of slave. He was the master.

  Chapter Ten

  Nicholas Smith’s face changed. He let go of her as if she’d burned him, and Arthur yanked her backward. Sera whipped up her stake for the plunge and found it snatched from her hand by Arthur.

  Which was when Blair dropped down opposite her as if he’d just stepped off a bus. “Mine,” he said mildly and twitched her out of the other vampire’s arms.

  “You know what worries me?” Nicholas Smith said conversationally. “How often I see you in the company of this vampire.”

  Sera opened her mouth to retort, but Blair was before her. “What worries me,” he said, “is why she smells like you.”

  “Human?” Smith taunted. “Do you miss that? Or do you want to turn her?”

  “Neither,” Blair said. And there it was, his first lie.

  “Let her go,” Smith said. “Please, I’ll look after her.” It was almost a plea; even stranger, it sounded genuine.

  “You’ve just said you can’t control them. I can.”

  “No, you can’t,” Smith said, taking a step nearer. “You can kill them—maybe. Until there are too many, and they take her from you. That isn’t control. Blair. We’re all friends here. Allies. Give me the girl and join us.”

  “Is one dependent on the other?” Blair asked with apparent interest. There was silence in the garden, apart from a quiet car engine in the distance.

  A funny little smile flickered across Smith’s face. “Do you know, I think it might be.”

  “Sorry,” Blair said. “I could never do coercion.”

  Abruptly, the quiet car engine got louder, much louder, and a car actually crashed through the wall at the back of the garden. It careered across the grass, scattering vampires. Staring stupidly, Sera glimpsed Phil at the wheel. He looked drunk. The car skidded to a halt beside her and Blair, and the passenger door sprang open.

  Sera and Blair all but fell through it. The car was moving again almost immediately, bouncing and crashing its way around the garden and back the way it had come. Sera, half on Blair’s knee, clung to him for safety. There was a loud bump as a vampire landed on the roof, but Phil kept driving, and at the next bounce, the vampire fell off. Phil put his foot down.

  Under Sera’s hand, Blair’s shoulder was shaking. Silently but joyously, he was laughing.

  ****

  As she entered her flat, Sera called up Ferdy Bell’s number on her phone and pressed Call. He answered almost immediately.

  “Are you all right?” Sera demanded.

  “I’m fine,” Ferdy said. “Tom’s got a bit of a sprained ankle, but we’re okay.”

  “Who’s Tom?” she asked, turning to close the front door. Blair swung past into the house, causing a little frisson to run up her spine. It was probably fear—there was a vampire in her house—but it felt a lot like excitement. She shut the door behind him.

  “Tom’s our gardener,” Ferdy said sheepishly.

  “Oh dear… What in the world were you doing there?”

  Ferdy sighed down the phone. “We followed Jason to the house. Then we went back to get a ladder and decided to break in and—er—kill any vampires who were there.”

  “Mr. Bell,” Sera said. “Do you not trust me?”

  Unflatteringly, he hesitated. Then: “I trust you to try and do the right thing. I do. But to be honest, this thing seems beyond you. It’s too big, too horrible, too brutal.”

  “Yes? Well, I still killed one more vampire than you did tonight,” she retorted. “I’ll call you in the morning. Bastard,” she added, tossing the phone on to the living room table. “Didn’t even ask how I was.”

  “And how are you?” Blair asked, settling onto the sofa with his feet up. “Apart from pissed off?”

  Sera blinked. The large vampire looked quite at home in her sanctuary, and she didn’t even mind. She sighed and sank down on the sofa next to his feet. “Confused. Nicholas Smith is controlling, ordering the banking vampires. Why?”

  “To get rich, of course. The ‘how’ is a bit more difficult. I never met many vampires who could organize or control other vampires. I’ve never encountered any humans who could. Or even wanted to.”

  Sera frowned. “Hypnosis, like you said? Can vampires be hypnotized?”

  He shrugged. “I doubt it.”

  “But Smith’s a magician, a sorcerer,” she said slowly. She turned her head to look at him. “What do you know about magic, Blair? Real magic?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But that’s not true. You open doors with your mind. You can jump so high it’s like flying. Isn’t that magic?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just something vampires can do. I’ve never thought about it as magical, just natural. It comes with the change of state, which we inherit with the Founder’s blood.”

  She kept hearing about the Founder. Something to investigate later. For now, there was a more important point to pursue. “But people do learn about magic, don’t they? According to a friend of mine who’s a witch, it’s a gift that can be nurtured, just like talking to the dead and sensing by touch.”

  “Maybe. Does it matter?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that’s how Smith keeps control of the vampires.”

  Blair’s eyebrow twitched. “Maybe it’s even how they can talk and can’t hear telepathically. He managed to shut down that side of their existence by magic? Is it possible?”

  “Don’t ask me. Until three nights ago, I didn’t think vampires were possible.”

  He gave her a lazy smile, one that seemed to shoot straight through her tingling stomach to her core. She stood up quickly before he could notice. “Do vampires drink coffee or just blood and whisky?”

  “They can drink anything they like. Coffee is good.”

  In the mess that was her kitchen, at least the coffeemaker and a couple of cups were clean. She cleared a space, vowing to tidy up properly tomorrow. She made that vow most days.

  “Where will Phil ditch the car?” she called. Apparently, he’d stolen it from the curbside on Smith’s street.

  “Who knows? He might even take it back where he got it.”

  After this evening, she’d got used to hearing his voice at the same volume in her mind, however far away from her he was. So when she turned and found him in the kitchen doorway, leaning negligently against the lintel, she was taken by s
urprise.

  “Milk?” she asked with odd breathlessness.

  He shook his head, watching as she grabbed the milk from the fridge and sloshed some into her own cup.

  “There’s something very odd about Nicholas Smith,” she said, because he was on her mind. “Very—ambiguous. I almost believe he wouldn’t have let the vampires have me. Only what the hell did he want me for? Why would he need a lie detector or even a tracker when he has an army of vampires to do his bidding?”

  Blair didn’t respond. Frowning, she looked at him. “I don’t believe he felt any malice toward me. He was more upset by the idea of me being with you.”

  “Perhaps he felt the similarities between you.”

  What worries me is why she smells like you. What had he meant by that?

  He said, “Were your parents really drug addicts who abandoned you?”

  So he’d heard her tell Phil that. He must have ears like a dog. She turned away. “No idea. They gave me my name, but I don’t remember them. I was brought up in children’s homes and foster families.” Pouring the percolated coffee into the cups, she wondered if she really could be related to Nicholas Smith. Once, as a lonely, unhappy child, she’d longed for real family. Even criminals like most of Jilly’s folks—up to and including her nefarious brother Andy—would have been an improvement on none. Now she didn’t like the idea at all, and yet wouldn’t it make sense? Both she and Smith were psychic to a high degree, and she knew that didn’t happen very often.

  “Why should it be in the blood?” she demanded.

  For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then: “Many things are.” He stood close behind her. She felt his touch, butterfly light on the side of her neck. “Yours, for example, is most desirable.”

  She shivered, closing her eyes against the build-up of lust. “I must be insane. I let a vampire into my home. Although, admittedly, there isn’t a lot I could do to keep you out.”

  “You’re not afraid of me.” She heard the smile in his voice, felt the faintest brush of his lips near her skin as he inhaled her. “I like that.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong,” she said with the ghost of a laugh. “I’m scared shitless by what you are. But when I’m with you, I feel ridiculously—comfortable. Sometimes, I even think I understand you, although obviously I don’t.”

  “Comfortable,” he murmured. “I’m not sure I like that.” His lips brushed her neck again, lingered in a kiss. She felt the tip of his tongue on her skin and couldn’t help moving her head in voluptuous pleasure. “Aren’t you just a little—excited?”

  “No,” she whispered, half twisting around to see his face. It was a mistake, for although his mouth left her neck, it took her lips instead.

  Oh God, the vampire could kiss, deep and sensual and deliberately arousing. His hands crept up over her shoulders and neck to cup her face. She could feel his terrifying teeth, long and sharp against her tongue as he drew it into his mouth. She didn’t want to give in as she’d done in the street last night; but nor could she bring herself to resist. So she hung helpless in his hold, battered by his overwhelming kiss and by her own rising passion.

  His hands slid down her throat once more, stroking her neck and lower until they cupped her breasts. And Jesus, that felt good too. For a moment he just held them while he stroked her lips with his fangs and sank back into her mouth, and then his thumbs flicked over her pebbled nipples, repeatedly, making them ache with pleasure. With one finger, he circled around an eager peak, then palmed it and closed once more while his other hand slid down over her stomach to the hot, anxious place between her legs.

  “Coffee,” she gasped against his lips.

  “Sex,” he whispered in her mind.

  “What if I say no?”

  He smiled against her lips, parting them wide before he left them. “Then I’ll try and change your mind.”

  “Like this?” she said, covering his hand on her breast.

  “I’d definitely try some more of that.” His hand moved between her legs in a long, devastating caress that made her gasp. “And this.”

  She pulled his hand off her breast; was vaguely surprised that he let her. “Coffee first,” she said firmly.

  “And then?” Reluctantly, it seemed, he released her.

  “Hopefully, I’ll have my head back together enough to throw you out.” Her hand shook as she picked up his mug of coffee and thrust it in his direction. He grabbed it quickly to avoid spillages, no doubt, and waited politely for her to precede him back to the living room.

  Since there were clothes and books piled on the armchair, Sera reluctantly sat down on the sofa. Inevitably, Blair sat beside her, close but not touching, which at least gave her time to draw breath and think what the hell she was doing—or considering doing—and with whom. Oh, bloody hell, what would it be like with him? He’d be so beautiful and strong, and if he screws anything like as well as he kisses…

  Hastily, she squashed the wayward meanderings of her mind before she melted into an even more obvious glob of lust and took a gulp of coffee to calm her nerves. It was too hot, but she thought the pain would do her good.

  “So how come you live here all alone, Serafina MacBride?”

  “There’s only room for one.”

  “There are no men desperate to live with you? Marry you?”

  “They’re not breaking my door down. Why?” She risked a glance at him, largely to dare him to suggest frigid or even lesbian inclinations behind her solitude.

  But Blair, it seemed, never did the expected. His dark eyes were steady, hot, and predatory as they caught and held her gaze. Her stomach flipped and dived. He said, “In my experience, beautiful women like you are rarely left alone. They are besieged by lovers, the good, the bad, the Casanovas, and the desperate.”

  Her smile was slightly twisted. “I guess nobody’s desperate enough.”

  He ignored that. “But then,” he observed, “you are a very rare, beautiful woman. I’d guess that you scare human men.”

  “I do,” she admitted. “I’m not very comfortable to be around. They think the psychic thing is madness, and somehow it always comes out. Well, it would have to in any meaningful relationship, wouldn’t it?”

  She glanced away to take another sip of coffee. “And then men don’t as a rule like to be spotted as liars. Worse, I can’t bear to be lied to. They say more than they mean, or less. Or just try lines that they really expect me to believe.”

  Abruptly, she slid onto the floor in a futile effort to avoid his gaze. But again, he surprised her. “What’s the most outrageous lie you’ve ever been told?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She struck a hand-on-heart pose. “‘I’d die happy for one night in your arms.’ I kid you not—someone actually said that to me. Or ‘My God, Sera, you could be the one. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before.’”

  “He had?”

  “He was married with two kids. Or that old favorite: ‘You’re the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ll call you..’”

  “He didn’t?”

  “Of course, he didn’t. But then, unless he was standing on the other side of the room when he said it, I wouldn’t expect him to. To be fair, it’s rare I get to that point, because the lies generally come earlier on in the evening.”

  “It’s probably only the emphasis that’s untruthful. Humans have difficulty with words, with admitting feelings. For example, your lover could well have meant you were the best sex he’d ever had and was desperate to see you again, but he was too afraid to call you because you were staring at him with such derision.”

  “Who’s side are you on?”

  “Yours, of course.”

  “Well, I don’t mind them lying to get into my knickers, to be honest. Even that can be flattering if looked on in the right way. It’s imagining that I’m stupid enough and gullible enough to fall for it that pisses me off.” She glanced over her shoulder. “What about you, Blair? Do you lie your way into sex?”

  “I don’t usually say
anything at all. No point when she can’t hear me.”

  She smiled. “You just give them that look, don’t you? And they melt into your arms like ice cream in the sun. Like Tess.”

  “I never had sex with Tess. You took her away.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need. I only picked her because she looked like you, and when you showed up in person, the desire for her vanished.”

  She twisted around to see him better. Half smiling, he held out his hand. She took it in her fingers and sensed no lie. She didn’t need to touch the undead to spot their lies, of course, but neither of them mentioned the fact. She liked to touch him, now she’d got used to the cool skin and the black, terrifying depth of memory that came with it.

  “Mind you,” he added, presumably in the interests of truth, “I was still damned hungry, and I could have done with a drink.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Is that why you were so narked when I took her away?”

  “That and the fact I couldn’t drink from you either. Or at least not in a civilized manner.”

  “You say the most disgusting things in such a reasonable way.”

  He leaned forward to touch her hair with his free hand. “It isn’t disgusting,” he said softly. “It’s sensual and powerful and deeply satisfying. The blood drink intensifies orgasm for both lovers, and for you, a psychic… We could set the whole world alight and keep it there.”

  “Oh, be quiet,” she said shakily as his hand dropped to the back of her neck, caressing. “I haven’t even agreed to the orgasm yet.”

  “Yes, you have. In your mind.” He slid onto the floor beside her, setting his own mug and hers to one side. He placed his hands on her shoulders, yet made sure some of his fingers brushed her bare skin. “I want you, Serafina. More than I’ve wanted any woman in a very long time.”

  Again, truth hit her, warming her, lifting her, and yet he was… He was a vampire. “You move too fast for me,” she whispered. “I can’t even adjust to what you are. I don’t know what relationships you have with other women.”