by R. E. Carr
“Can we get dinner first? I’m starving,” Gail said, barely able to slip away.
Javier pouted briefly, then flipped his messy hair out of his eyes so he could fiddle with his phone. “As my lady commands,” he said as he typed away. “I’ve ordered us Chinese.”
“You are the best!” Gail said, dancing to the coffee table so she could sort through their various purchases. She pulled out the receipt and frowned. “Damn it, we forgot aluminum foil again.”
“Then we are lucky that Target is open seven days a week around here,” Javier sighed. He unpacked a few cleaning supplies under the sink and puttered around the kitchen before finally diving into the fridge for a pair of dark green bottles. “Aperitif, mi amor?”
“Yes, please,” Gail said, as she tried out a new headband and kicked off her shoes. Javier plopped beside her on their sofa and kicked up his feet. One of his legs made a distinctly hollow sound as it thunked onto the corner. Gail shot him a look and he slid his feet back to the floor. Before her gaze could grow any more withering, Javier handed her one of the frosty bottles and clinked it against his.
“You are impossible, you know that, right?” Gail asked before taking a sip. She smacked her lips. “Is this the last of the German shit?”
“I am afraid so, mi amor,” Javier said sadly. “But I think you’ll find this town is very accommodating. It is something you’ve never experienced - pure freedom.”
“If we are so free, then why were we tailed from the store?” Gail asked.
“I told you that this was a free city, not a stupid one,” Javier said. “Times are unstable. You can’t blame them for being cautious, and I haven’t been back this way since . . . well let’s just say it was probably before you were born.”
“And you just happened to have a lovely two-bedroom bungalow all kept up and waiting for us? Isn’t that convenient?” she cooed as she stared lovingly into his big, brown eyes.
“Well, I might have acquired this place from an old acquaintance . . .” He trailed off as he lost himself in her gaze.
“And . . .?” she prodded him.
“Well, I might have to do a tiny little job for the old friend while you set up our beautiful casa, mi amor,” Javier confessed. He smiled as innocently as he could, the effect slightly dampened by his fangs. Gail tapped her fingers on her bottle and just stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Just because I am immortal, doesn’t mean I don’t have to work,” he added defensively.
“So I just do . . . what? Clean the house? Hunt you dinner?” Gail asked, brow still raised. “Wait for you to explain to me why electronics flicker around me and make you cringe?”
Javier rubbed his chin, as he considered the proposition. The longer he stalled, the darker Gail’s eyes became, until the reflection in Javier’s eyes turned black. Gail cocked her head and stared in awe at her own image. She blinked and was suddenly gone – only the curtains reflected in Javier’s eyes.
“Gail?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
“Sorry, just distracted for a moment. Javier, do vampires ever have reflections?” she asked, paling slightly.
“We always have reflections, mi amor. They simply aren’t noticed, or they are obscured by our aura of self-preservation. The only time we can be seen is when we are alone, with those that we trust completely.”
“Why does this sound like one of your cheesy vampire pick-up lines, Javier?” Gail sighed.
“No! While I admit to being full of shit on any given day, this time I am telling you the truth, jurar por Dios. Some vampires, particularly the young, have not learned to guard themselves enough. No one truly fears them yet, and they do not fear the humans, so yes, from time to time, they do see reflections of themselves when they feel safe. Believe me, after a few centuries, you will never see yourself again.”
“That makes no sense,” she said.
“When does life make sense, mi amor?”
Gail hopped up from the couch and started pacing around her new home. She stopped in front of her dresser mirror – nothing. Next stop was the bathroom – still nothing. Finally, she rummaged in her purse on the dining room table and whipped out a compact. This time she saw her nearly black eyes staring back from the tiny mirror. She whirled around to see Javier the vampire ninja not six inches behind her, running his hands through his hair and grinning sheepishly.
“Will I be able to do that someday, sneak up on anyone?”
“With practice, sí,” he said with a nod. “But since you can’t right now, I do have to do this little favor alone. Patience, mi amor.”
Gail pouted slightly, now her fangs peeked over her lip. Javier leaned in and kissed her again. She pushed him away playfully.
“I’ve been a vampire for a week. Why does nothing feel different?” she asked. “I mean, nothing other than the being wide awake at three AM, the diet change, and the need to wear sunscreen to get the mail.”
“Were you expecting more?” He asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. He put his hand on her waist and pulled her close so he could rest his forehead against hers. “I think it’s been pretty nice.”
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“But you want more,” Javier sighed. “Believe me, there is an entire world I plan to show you, mi amor. Just be . . .”
“Patient,” she finished for him.
“You know, there is an old legend that a vampire only sees their reflection in the arms of their one true love,” Javier whispered in her ear. “Very old legend among los vampiros.”
“Uh-huh, I know this tone of yours,” she said softly.
“They say that if your love is truly your soul mate, that the reflection will even speak to you,” he said, now swaying with her to some unknown tune. “Though I hope for your sake, we are not these legendary soul mates. I could not imagine the depth of your suffering if you had to listen to me and my reflection.”
“Now I know you are making up crap again, Javier.”
“No, I swear - I heard it more than once in Barcelona and Marseille. No one gets all gooey and romántico like the vampiros of the Iberian Peninsula. Of course, neither of them had actually experienced it . . . only heard about it from an amigo of an amigo.”
“Oh, of course. I take it you aren’t seeing my reflection then,” Gail teased. “If you did it would swear . . . a lot.”
“Sí,” he said. Before he could continue, there was a knock on the door. Gail slipped away and smacked her lips as she approached the entryway.
“I thought you ordered Chinese,” she said, confused as she opened the door to reveal a decidedly Caucasian young man with a briefcase rather than plastic bags.
“I did—” Javier stopped talking and instantly darted in front of Gail. He smiled, but this time definitely baring his fangs at the twenty-something pretty boy with floppy caramel-colored hair and preternaturally bright amber eyes. The stranger smiled affably in return.
“I’m not here for trouble,” the visitor said. “Would you mind inviting me in?”
“Is that actually a thing?” Gail hissed over Javier’s shoulder.
“It’s etiquette, not like the Hollywood thing,” Javier hissed back. “OK, after this, I will educate you more.”
Javier then turned to the guest and gave a slow formal nod. He motioned the stranger in with, “But of course, mi casa es su casa, Amigo.”
“There is a certain truth in that. I actually have the deed with me,” the stranger said. He then looked past Javier toward the confused Gail. “It is so nice to see someone younger than me. Do I get an introduction?”
Javier moved slightly aside, still standing protectively in front of Gail. He swept his hand to the side with a flourish. “Edwin, please meet my new bride, Gail de Azarola—”
“Perdón?” Gail asked in an imitation of Javier’s accent.
“Is there some confusion about the situation?” Edwin asked, bemused.
“She’s a week old, I am still explaining all the things—” Javier said quickly
.
“You forgot to explain the married part!” Gail snapped.
“One week, wow. I never pegged you for a cradle-robber, Uncle Jav,” Edwin said, now openly smirking. “I thought that was dad’s shtick. Is he rubbing off on you?”
“It is, how you say, a long story,” Javier said, now motioning to the living room. Their guest sauntered over and made himself at home, but Gail stood there, hands on hips.
“Excuse me? Are you seriously telling me that we’re . . . we’re . . .” she stammered.
“Technically by vampire law . . . sí,” he said sheepishly. “I was going to let things settle down for a while, make sure you were happy, and then tell you. Not my best plan, I know, but it was the only one I had. The first few days are a little bit touch-and-go with our kind. I had to make sure you weren’t going to bite my head off, literalmente.”
Gail gave a side-eye to the visitor. “We are so talking later,” she muttered under her breath.
“If it makes you feel any better, vampire divorce is really very simple, but I would hope that you would at least give a poor old man a chance,” he said, shooting her his best hangdog look. He then kissed her cheek and led her by the hand to the living room.
Edwin had plopped his briefcase on the coffee table. He gave a quick glance between both Azarolas before popping it open.
“And this is?” Gail prompted.
Javier shuffled sheepishly. “But of course, mi amor. Meet Edwin Pendragon,” he said.
“Harker,” Edwin corrected.
It was Javier’s turn to say, “Perdón?”
Edwin shuffled through his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope sealed by golden wax. A majestic deer reared in the stamp. Javier stared at it curiously while Gail simply looked lost.
“House Harker,” Edwin repeated. “Mother no longer wanted to be associated with the traitor she had been married to since her birth. As the daughter of a Cesare and an ancient one, it is her right to claim her own name. She was found worthy in a unanimous decision.”
“Funny how I missed this,” Javier said.
“It happened two days ago,” Edwin said. He sniffed the air and smiled. “You’ve been a trifle busy. Anyway, this writ transfers this domain to you by order of House Harker. There is no more Pendragon claim for any holdings from Detroit northwards. Canada now belongs to House Harker.”
“Vampires own a country?” Gail asked, incredulously.
“To be fair, there is not that much in Canada,” Javier said. Edwin smiled and nodded at that. Javier continued with, “But is Detroit—?”
“Detroit is still a free city, and always will be so long as Mother is in charge. She wants to see you, Uncle Jav. It’s been a long time,” Edwin said.
“That it has. She has been more than generous, and I should thank her,” Javier said.
“You should introduce your bride too. I’m sure she will want to spoil her rotten. However, she is going to be terribly disappointed that you finally decided to settle down. I think she was looking for a repeat of seventy-three now that you were back in town,” Edwin sighed. “It’s a shame. I always liked you better than Vlad the Trampsylvanian Twatwaffle.”
“Do I want to know?” Gail asked.
“Vlad the Impaler, head of the Tepes house,” Edwin said bitterly. “If dad wasn’t dour enough, Mom had a fling with a Romanian legend for a few centuries.”
“Harker? Like Wilhelmina Harker and Vlad like Dracula?” Gail gushed.
Javier leaned in and explained, “She reads . . . a lot.”
“Oh boy,” Edwin sighed. “She’s going to love you. Mina Harker was her name when she was following Dad around England. She is really Meenakshi Thakkar, but she will insist you call her Mina.”
“So that story is real?” Gail asked, practically bouncing on the sofa.
“Highly embellished,” Edwin said. “And I really don’t want to talk about it. Is that fair? Give Uncle Jav some spiked blood and half an hour and I’m sure you’ll hear all of it, and it will be a lot more colorful than my telling.”
“Uncle Jav?”
“Colorful nickname, I assure you,” Javier said. “Edwin, so you are House Harker now? What about your hermano? The other vassals?”
Edwin’s pale face grew perceptibly paler. “Geoffrey decided to stay with Grandfather. Our family has split.”
“And you always were a madre’s boy,” Javier muttered. “I must say, this is a surprise. There hasn’t been a new house since the sixteenth century. Now we have new masters shoving to get seats at the table, and less chance to right old wrongs than ever before.”
“Oh boy,” Edwin sighed again. “Look, I know it’s been hard for you, but I’m certain that Mom is one of your allies.”
“Just have a little patience,” Gail added, in a sickeningly sweet voice.
“I deserved that,” Javier sighed. “Now tell me, Señor Harker, when does the Dama Harker want to meet?” He exaggerated the trill on each “R”.
“Did you have any plans tonight?” Edwin asked. “Because if you did, I’d cancel them.”
4
“I really wish you didn’t have to see me like this, A rún,” Paige heard as she saw a familiar face reflected in one of the many screens lining the back wall.
“I wish I didn’t have to see you like this either,” she muttered under her breath. An ashen, eerily still body lay on the bed before her – most of his skin covered in bandages. A rotting stench permeated the air, while multiple IVs fed blood into the withered husk. Paige gnawed on her knuckles, unable to turn away even as the doctors shuffled behind her. Her ears twitched in time with the beep, beep, beep of all the machines.
“Paige,” the dry, scratchy voice of Kyle O’Hara said, as he rested one of his mammoth hands on her tiny shoulder. “It’s . . . he’s . . .”
“Dying,” she finished. “Really Kyle, you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
“I’m not even sure dying is the right tense,” Kyle said softly, his eyes just as bloodshot as Paige’s. “It took a few million euros in high-tech equipment to find some sort of pulse in there. He’s rotting from the inside out, but somehow, some way the vampire within is still alive. Grandpa is one tough bastard.”
“He is as stubborn as the rest of his family,” a lightly German-accented voice said from behind them both. “A good trait when battling the osoi-shi.”
Paige turned ever so slightly to see a striking, pale man standing by the door. She bared her teeth reflexively as she took in the distinctive odor of a vampire mixed with incense and other floral notes. The vampire’s eyes were so pale blue that they faded to gray, and he kept his pale hair short in a Roman fashion. The rest of his appearance was decidedly less severe – yoga pants, a T-shirt, and sandals. The longer Paige looked at him, a subtle strangeness emerged in his features. Paige traced her gaze along his prominent brow, wider nose, and powerful jaw. He noticed her stare and gave her a broad smile, broad enough to reveal the largest pair of fangs she had ever seen.
“I am sorry that we must meet under such circumstances, my lady. I am the master of the Arce Monstrorum. You are under my hospitality and my protection,” he said, giving her a nod.
“I think he goes by Klaus,” Kyle whispered in Paige’s ear.
“I have many names, but Klaus will do. It is what your great-grandfather knows me as, but he insists on calling me—”
“Pops,” Steve DeMarco replied, stepping out from his father’s shadow. Steve made a beeline for Paige and put his hand on her free shoulder. He blanched as he saw the dark striations cutting across Lorcan’s face. “Whoa,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Pipsqueak.”
“Should we all be in here?” Paige growled at the gathering crowd.
“If you have a moment, Paige, may we speak?”
“Now is not the best time,” she growled.
“Of course,” Klaus said with a little nod. “Son, give them a moment. Dr. O’Hara, if you need anything, simply ask. There is to be no expense spared.”
“They fell off near Nice, didn’t they?” she asked sadly.
Kyle nodded. “Hey, at least he’s a leftie. He won’t miss them,” Kyle said with a pathetic laugh.
“Have you had any sleep?” Paige asked.
“No, but I will have to knock myself out soon. I’m one espresso away from a code moon. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not the one who did this to him. I am,” Paige said softly.
“Paige—”
She snarled. Kyle recoiled.
“I did this. I was a fucking Trojan horse, used by Merlin to poison him. I’m not wallowing, I’m just stating facts,” she said. “And if I was the poison, how are we going to cure him?”
“Wow, I thought I was scary when I was cranky,” Kyle muttered. He gulped as Paige snarled again. “Look, you want me to be blunt, I’ll be blunt. We are in what can only be described as a “state of the art mad scientist lab” and I can’t stop the damage. I’m to the point of having to use topical antibiotics, and if that seeps too far into his system, he is double dead.”
“You said his tissues were—”
“Coming back to life?” Kyle asked. He snatched a very expensive tablet off the table and started flipping through charts. “Yeah, he has living tissue everywhere, but that is both hurting and helping. Immune systems are the bane of all vampires, and Grandpa is no exception. It weakened him enough to cause a chain reaction of his gut bacteria breaking out. Now his living tissue is under attack from sepsis, and the whole carefully-balanced mix of enzymes and proteins that kept his dead tissue from rotting is out of whack too. I need a decade and a research team just to start unravelling this mess.”