Night's Edge

by Maggie Shayne, Charlaine Harris, Barbara Hambly

  Shortly after, he came in with two bags full of food. “How much of this can you eat?” he asked. “I find I have forgotten.” He’d gotten Chinese, which she loved, and he’d bought enough for four. Luckily, there were forks and napkins in the bags, too, since Sean didn’t have such things.

  “Sean,” she said, because she enjoyed saying his name. “Sit down while I eat, please, and tell me about your life.” She knew how his face looked when he came, but she didn’t know anything about his childhood. In her mind, this was way off balance.

  “While I was in Pineville,” he said, “I looked in the windows of your parents’ home. I was curious, that’s all. In the living room, your father was staring into a huge glass case that takes up a whole wall.”

  “All my stuff,” she said softly.

  “The crowns, the trophies, the ribbons.”

  “Oh, my gosh, they still have all that out? That’s just…sad. Did he have a drink in his hand?”

  Sean nodded.

  “Why did you tell me this when I asked to know more about you?”

  “You’re American royalty,” he said, supplying the link.

  She laughed out loud, but not as if he were really amusing.

  “You are,” he said steadily. “And I know you’ve heard Sylvia say I was an aristocrat. Well, that’s her joke. My origins are far more humble.”

  “I noticed you could make a bed like a whiz,” she said.

  “I can do anything in the way of taking care of a human being,” he said. He looked calm, but she could tell he wasn’t—something about the way his hands were positioned on the edge of the table. “I was a valet for most of my human life.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “YOU WERE A GENTLEMAN’S gentleman?” Her face lit up with interest.

  He seemed taken aback by her reaction. “Yes, my family was poor. My father died when I was eleven, so I couldn’t take over his smithy. My mother was at her wits’ end. There were five of us, and she had to sell the business, move to a smaller cottage, and my oldest sister—she was fifteen—had to marry. I had to find work.”

  “You poor thing,” she said. “To have to leave school so early.”

  He smiled briefly. “There wasn’t a school for the likes of us,” he said. “I could read and write, because our priest taught me. My sisters couldn’t, because no one imagined they’d need to.” He frowned at her. “You should be eating now. I didn’t get you food so you could let it grow cold.”

  She turned her face down to hide her smile and picked up her fork.

  “I got a job with a gentleman who was passing through our village. His boy died of a fever while he was staying at the inn, and he hired me right away. I helped out his valet, Strothers. I went with them when they returned to England. The man’s name was Sir Tobias Lovell, and he was a strange gentleman. Very strange, I thought.”

  “He turned out to be a vampire, I guess.”

  “Yes. Yes, he was. His habits seemed very peculiar, but then, you didn’t question people above you in social station, especially since anyone could see he was a generous man who treated people well. He traveled a great deal, too, so no one could wonder about him for too long. Every now and then, he’d go to his country house for a while. That was wonderful, because travel was so difficult then, so uncomfortable.”

  “But how did you come to be his valet? What happened to Strothers?”

  “Strothers had already grown old in his service, and by the time I was eighteen, Strothers had arthritis so badly that walking was painful. Out of mercy, Sir Tobias gave him a cottage to live in, and a pension. He promoted me. I took care of his clothes, his wigs, his wants and needs. I shaved him. I changed his linen, ordered his bath when he wanted, cleaned his shoes. That’s why I know how to take care of you.” He reached over the table to stroke her hair. “Once I was in closer contact with Sir Tobias, it became obvious to me there was something more than eccentricity about the man. But I loved him for his goodness, and I knew I must keep his secrets, as much for my own sake as for his. We went on, master and man, for many years…maybe twelve or fifteen. I lost track, you see, of how old I was.”

  That seemed the saddest thing she’d ever heard. Rue lowered her gaze to hide her tears.

  “I realized later that he’d take a little from the women he bedded,” Sean said. “He pleased them very much, but most of them were weak the day after. In our small country neighborhood, he had the name of being a great womanizer. He had to go from one to another, of course, so no one woman would bear the brunt of his need. He seemed much healthier when we went to the cities, where he could visit houses of ill repute as much as he liked, or he could hunt in the alleys.”

  “What happened?”

  “The village people grew more and more suspicious. He didn’t age at all, you see, and people grew old very quickly then. But he lost money and couldn’t afford to travel all the time, so he had to stay at the manor more often. He never went to Sunday church. He couldn’t be up in the daytime, of course. And he didn’t wear a cross. The priest began to be leery of him, though he donated heavily to the church.

  “People began to avoid me, too, because I was Sir Tobias’s man. It was a dark time.” Sean sighed. “Then they came one night to get him, a few of the local gentry and the priest. I told him who was at the door, and he said, ‘Sean, I’m sorry, I must eat before I run.’ And then he was on me.”

  Rue had lost the taste for her food. She wiped her mouth and laid her hand over Sean’s.

  “He gave me a few swallows of his blood after he’d drained me,” Sean said quietly. “He said, ‘Live, if you have the guts for it, boy,’ and then he was gone. The people at the front door broke in to begin searching the house for him, and they found me. They were sure I was dead. I was white; I’d been bitten, and they couldn’t hear my heart. I couldn’t speak, of course. So they buried me.”

  “Oh, Sean,” she said, horror and pity in her voice.

  “Lucky for me, they buried me right away,” he said briskly. “In a rotten coffin, at that. Kept me out of the sunlight, and the lid was easy to break through when I woke.” He shrugged. “They wanted to be through with the job, so they hadn’t put me in too deep. And they didn’t keep watch at the churchyard, to see if I’d rise. Another stroke of luck. People didn’t know as much about vampires then as they did a hundred years later.”

  “What did you do after that?”

  “I went to see my sweetheart, the girl I’d been seeing in the village. Daughter of the dry-goods dealer, she was.” He smiled slightly. “She was wearing black for me. I saw her when she came out to get a bucket of water. And I realized I’d ruin the rest of her life if I showed myself to her. The shock might kill her, and if it didn’t, I might. I was very hungry. Two or three days in the grave will do that. And I had no one to tell me what to do, how to do what I knew I must. Sir Tobias was long gone.”

  “How did you manage?”

  “I tried to hold out too long the first time,” he said. “The first man I took didn’t survive. Nor did the second, or the third, or the fourth. It took me time to learn how much I could take, how long I could hold off the hunger before it would make me do something I’d regret.”

  Rue pushed her food away.

  “Did you ever see him again?” she asked, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Yes, I saw him in Paris ten years later.”

  “What was that like?”

  “He was in a tavern, once again the best-dressed man in the place, the lord of all he saw,” Sean said, his voice quite expressionless. “He always did enjoy that.”

  “Did you speak?”

  “I sat down opposite him and looked him in the eye.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not a word. We looked at each other for a couple of minutes. There was really nothing to say, in the end. I got up and left. That night, I decided I would learn to dance. I’d done village dances as a boy, of course. I enjoyed it more than anything, and
since I had centuries to fill and no pride to be challenged, I decided to learn all about dancing. Men danced then, almost all men. It was a necessary social grace if you were at all upper-class, and I could go from one group to another, acting like Sir Tobias when I wanted to learn the ballroom dances of the wealthy, and like my own class when I wanted to pick up some folk steps.”

  They both unwound as Sean talked about dancing. Rue even picked up her fork again and ate a few more bites. Gradually Sean relaxed in his chair and became silent. When she was sure he’d recovered from his story, she said, “I have to feed the cat. I need to go to my apartment.”

  “But you can’t stay there,” Sean said stiffly.

  “Then where?”

  “Here, of course. With me.”

  She did her best not to glance around the tiny apartment. She could probably fit her books and clothes in somewhere, but she would have to discard everything else she’d acquired with so much effort. How could they coordinate their very different lives? How much of his feeling for her was pity?

  He could read her mood accurately. “Come on, let’s get your things. If I’m right, you’ve missed one day of classes. You’ll need to go tomorrow if you’re able. How is walking?”

  She was moving slowly and stiffly. Sean put socks on her feet and laced her boots in a matter-of-fact way. There was something so practical and yet so careful about the way he did such a lowly task that she felt moved in an unexpected way.

  “At least I don’t have a wig you have to powder,” she said, and smiled.

  “That was a great improvement of the twentieth century over the eighteenth,” he said. “Hair care and shoes—they’re much better now.”

  “Hair and shoes,” she said, amusement in her voice. She thought that over while Sean got ready to go, and by the time they were outside in the night, she felt quite cheerful. She looked forward to lots of conversations with Sean, when he would tell her about clothes and speech patterns and social mores of the decades he’d lived through. She could write some interesting term papers, for sure.

  She loved to listen to Sean talk. She loved it when he kissed her. She loved the way he made her feel like a—well, like a woman who was good in bed. And she loved the way he handled her when they were dancing, the respect in which he seemed to hold her. How had this happened over the past few months? When had he become so important to her?

  Now, walking beside him, she was content. Though her life had just been shaken to pieces and her body was sore from a beating, she was calm and steady, because she had Sean. She loved every freckle on his face, his white strong body, his quirky mouth, and his dancing talent.

  He’d done wonderful things for her. But he hadn’t said he loved her. His blue eyes fixed on her face as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world, and that should be enough. The way he made love to her told her that he thought she was wonderful. That should be enough. She had a strong suspicion any man would laugh at her for wondering, but she wasn’t a man, and she needed to hear the words—without having asked for them.

  The next second she was yanked from her brooding by an unexpected sight. She’d glanced up at her apartment windows automatically, from half a block away, and she’d gotten a nasty shock.

  “The light in my apartment is on,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “The overhead light.”

  “You didn’t leave it on last night?”

  “No. The ceilings are high, and it’s hard for me to change the bulbs in that fixture. I leave on the little lamp by my bed.”

  “I’ll see,” Sean said, pulling away from her grasp gently. She hadn’t realized she’d been gripping his arm.

  “Oh, please, don’t go to the door,” she said. “He might be waiting for you.”

  “I’m stronger than he is,” Sean said, a little impatiently.

  “Please, at least go up the fire escape, the one on the side of the building.”

  Sean shrugged. “If it’ll make you happy.”

  She crept closer to the building and watched Sean approach the fire escape. He decided to show off at the last minute and scaled the brick wall, using the tiny spaces between bricks as hand- and toeholds. Rue was impressed, sure enough, but she was also disconcerted. It was unpleasantly like watching a giant insect climb. In a very short time, Sean had reached the level of the window and swung onto the fire escape. He peered inside. Rue could tell nothing from his stance, and she couldn’t manage to see his face.

  “Hey, Rue.” Startled, she turned to see that her next-door neighbor, a part-time performance artist who called herself Kinshasa, had come up beside her. “What’s that guy up to?”

  “Looking into my apartment,” she said simply.

  “What were you doing last night? Sounded like you decided to rearrange the whole place.”

  “Kinshasa, I wasn’t at home last night.”

  Kinshasa was tall and dreadlocked, and she wore big red-rimmed glasses. She wasn’t someone you overlooked, and she wasn’t someone who shrank from unpleasant truths. “Then someone else was in your place,” she said. “And your friend’s checking to see what happened?”

  Rue nodded.

  “I guess I should’ve called the cops last night when I heard all that noise,” the tall woman said unhappily. “I thought I was doing you a favor by not calling the police or the super, but instead I was just being a typical big-city neighbor. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s good for you that you didn’t go knock on my door,” Rue said.

  “Oh. Like that, huh?”

  The two stood watching as Sean came back down the fire escape in a very mundane way. He looked unhappy, so far as Rue could tell.

  Sean, though not chatty or outgoing, was always polite, so Rue knew he had bad news when he ignored Kinshasa.

  “You don’t want to go back up there,” he said. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

  Suddenly Rue knew what had happened. “He got Martha,” she said, the words coming out in a little spurt of horror. “He got her?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I have to—” She started for the door of the building, thinking of all the things she needed, the fact that she had to find a box for the furry body, the grief washing over her in a wave.

  “No,” Sean said. “You will not go back in there.”

  “I have to bury her,” Rue said, trying to pull away from his hand on her arm.

  “No.”

  Rue stared up at him uncomprehendingly. “But, Sean, I have to.”

  Kinshasa said, “Baby, there’s not enough left to bury, your friend is saying.”

  Rue could hardly accept that, but her mind skipped on to other worries. “My books? My notes?” she asked, trying to absorb the magnitude of the damage.

  “Not usable.”

  “But it’s four weeks into the semester! There’s no way—I’ll have to drop out!” The books alone had cost almost six hundred dollars. She’d gotten as many as she could secondhand, of course, but this late in the term, could she find more?

  At least she had her dancing shoes. Some of them were in a corner at Blue Moon Entertainment, and the rest were in the bag she’d taken to Sean’s. Rue’s mind scurried from thought to thought like a mouse trapped in a cage.

  “Clothes?” she mumbled, before her knees collapsed.

  “Some of them may be salvageable,” Sean murmured, but without great conviction. He crouched beside her.

  “I know some people who can clean the apartment,” Kinshasa said. “They just came over from Africa. They need the money.”

  This was an unexpected help. “But it’s so awful in there, Sean says.” Tears began to stream down Rue’s face.

  “Honey, compared to the mass graves and the slaughter they’ve had to clean up in their own country, this will be a piece of cake to them.”

  “You’re right to give me some perspective,” Rue said, her spine stiffening. Kinshasa looked as if she’d intended no such thing, but she bit her lip and kept silent. “I’m b
eing ridiculous. I didn’t get caught in that apartment, or I would’ve ended up like poor Martha.” Rue managed to stand and look proud for all of ten seconds, before the thought of her beloved cat made her collapse.

  “I’ll kill him for you, honey,” Sean said, holding her close.

  “No, Sean,” she said. “Let the law do it.”

  “You want to call the police?”

  “Don’t we have to? He’ll have left fingerprints.”

  “What if he wore gloves the whole time?”

  “I let him get away with hitting me last night, and what does he do? He comes here and kills my cat and ruins all my stuff. I should’ve called the police last night.”

  “You’re right,” Kinshasa said. “I’ll call from my place right now.”

  Sean said nothing, but he looked skeptical. THE POLICE WERE BETTER, kinder, than Rue expected. She knew what that meant. Her apartment must be utterly gory. Sean told the detective, Wallingford, that he’d be able to tell what was missing. “You don’t need to go up there,” Wallingford told Rue, “if this guy can do it for you.” Sean and Wallingford went up to the apartment, and Rue drank a cup of hot chocolate that Kinshasa brought her. Rue found herself thinking, I’ve had friends around me all the time, if I’d just looked.

  When Sean reappeared with a garbage bag full of salvaged clothes, he told Rue the only thing he knew for sure was missing was her address book. “Was my address in it?” he asked her quietly.

  “No,” she said. “Maybe your phone number. But I didn’t even know where you lived until last night.”

  “The police say you can go now. Let’s go back to my place.” After an uneasy pause, he continued. “Do you think you can dance tonight? It’s almost too late to call Sylvia to get a replacement team.”

  “Dance tonight?” She looked at him as they walked, her face blank. “Oh! We’re supposed to be at the museum tonight!”

  “Ballroom dancing. Can you do that?”