by Barb Hendee
He managed all this so quickly that the women had taken only a five leisurely steps, but when Toret flashed back out of the alley, he grabbed Sapphire’s purse with his left hand. She’d not grown up with a confidence trickster for nothing.
“Help! My purse!” she cried out.
The women turned as Toret swung with his right hand, missing her jaw by the length of an eyelash—and she fell limply with a weak shriek as if hit and lay there with her eyes closed. Toret kept her purse and disappeared into the alley’s mouth.
“Oh,” said the middle-aged woman, hurrying back toward Sapphire, “Someone help!”
Either no one heard or no one cared, as the woman leaned down over Sapphire and touched her forehead.
“Eliza, hurry!” she called. “She may be injured.”
Sapphire opened her eyes.
“Are you all right, my dear?” the woman asked.
The younger woman approached slowly, and her mouth tightened upon seeing Sapphire.
“She’s fine, Mother, and this is none of our affair. Please stand up. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
As there was no one around to see, Sapphire hardly thought anyone could be making a spectacle. Then Toret appeared in a sudden blur out of the alley’s mouth. He grabbed the middle-aged woman and vanished back into the darkness.
“Mother!” the younger woman cried in shock.
No one had to tell Sapphire what to do. She rose faster than even she could believe, astonished at how easily and fluidly her body moved. Then she grabbed the haughty young woman called Eliza and wrenched her into the alley’s darkness beyond Toret.
Upon hearing a crack, she turned to see that he’d broken the older woman’s neck and dropped her body.
“I’m not hungry,” he said. “This is for you. Do whatever you like.”
Eliza was panting and struggling and staring in horror at her dead mother. Sapphire shoved her further down the alley and whispered, “Run.”
With eyes wide, Eliza hesitated for only a second. Then she turned and fled down the alley. Sapphire bolted after her, again, amazed at her own speed. She caught Eliza effortlessly and slammed her up against the wall.
Again, no one had to tell her what to do.
On instinct, she drove her teeth into Eliza’s neck and tasted the sweetest fluid of her entire life. The blood was rich and salty, and it filled her with strength and euphoria. She didn’t want the experience to end.
But it did, when she could take no more.
Upon dropping the body, she found Toret standing beside her, holding the older woman’s purse.
“What did I tell you?” he said, wiping the blood from her mouth with his hand. “You’ll never miss oysters again, will you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Tonight was special,” he said. “We can’t always kill. Most of the time, we have to take only what we need and then use tricks to make them think something else happened to them.”
“Tricks?”
“I’ll show you how. If we killed them all the time, we’d become hunted ourselves—by the city constabulary. We have to keep our existence a secret. My master taught me that.”
But as Sapphire looked down at the dead face of the haughty Eliza, the taste of blood still in her mouth, she couldn’t wait to feed on someone like this again.
“Take her purse,” Toret said. “We always take anything of value or worth.”
And she realized how he had managed to afford such fine clothes and his rooms at the White Whistle. Leaning down, she took Eliza’s purse.
“I don’t want anymore ready-made gowns,” she said. “I want my own dressmaker.”
· · · · ·
In another moon’s passing, Toret found himself both happier and more miserable than he’d ever been. The satisfaction of teaching Sapphire to hunt, of pleasing her in a hundred little ways, of her lying dormant beside him in their bed, of finally having someone who belonged utterly to him… these things brought him joy he could barely contain.
But not everything worked out quite as he’d imagined in his dreams.
For one, he found himself being forced to rob people so often that he’d learned a number methods to do this without ever being seen by the victim—such as coming out an alley to club someone over the back of the head. Before, he’d only stolen purses when he had to feed, and then he’d either killed the person or used the methods Corische had taught him to erase moments of their memory.
But Sapphire’s need for luxury was insatiable.
First, she demanded her own set of rooms. He had no objection to this, as he understood that a lady required a private space to herself. He’d intended to do this for her anyway. All he asked was that she slept with him, in his bed, during the day. She’d agreed. If he wished, he could’ve commanded her to do anything, as her maker, and she couldn’t have refused him. But he couldn’t imagine himself ever ordering her around.
Once she’d found herself a dressmaker, the number of boxes being delivered to the White Whistle increased every few nights. Gowns, stockings, shoes, hats, gloves, fur-trimmed cloaks, and stylish boots kept coming. In addition, bottles of expensive perfume and jewelry soon covered the dressing table in her room. And she always had the bills sent to Toret.
One sapphire stone necklace alone took him three robberies to pay for.
She also hungered to hunt at upscale places, drinking white wine from fluted crystal glasses and walking among her prey before finally choosing one. These evenings cost a good deal as well, yet he understood her needs.
She’d had so little in her youth; she was making up for having once been deprived. He knew that feeling only too well, but he began to worry that so many thefts might stir the city guard on top of the witless district constabularies.
He wanted her to be happy and to love him. At moments, he did contemplate ordering her to do both these things, though he always rejected these impulses. Happiness and love were not things that could be commanded.
Then… about a moon after he’d turned her, one night she left their bed almost the instant she awoke at dusk, and she went to her own rooms. He had a feeling something was wrong, and he followed. Stepping into her rooms, he glanced about to find gowns and shoes strewn everywhere. She’d long since filled the wardrobe, and there was no place left to hang a gown.
She sat at her dressing table, pouting as she sifted through a pile of necklaces and earrings.
“Why don’t we have servants?” she asked abruptly, and from her tone, he could feel a thunderstorm in the air about to burst. “Just look at this mess.”
“Would you like a servant?” he responded carefully. “I can arrange for one.”
That would be one more expense, but he could see she might need one.
Turning in her chair, she glared at him. “And where exactly would she put all these clothes? Mmmmmmm?”
Toret shook his head, confused about what she was asking for now.
“I want a house!” she cried. “A real house, in a good neighborhood, with our own servants, like people of quality.”
For the first time, he felt the stirrings of anger. He liked their rooms here, and she’d been more than pleased at first. “I’d say your rooms here are a good step above living in a brothel,” he blurted out before thinking.
Her mouth fell open, and he wanted to kick himself. Then her sapphire blue eyes went dark. The fact that he’d plucked her from a brothel was the last thing she wanted to be reminded of.
“You don’t love me!” she accused. “You took me away from my life and made me into something else, and you said you’d always take care of me! But you won’t even get us a proper home… just this cramped inn.”
Was she right? Were these rooms too cramped for her? But how was he ever to afford a house? As things stood, he was out every night haunting the streets just pay their bills.
He took a step forward. “Sapphire— he began.
She grabbed a porcelain vase off the dressing t
able and threw it at him. “Don’t come near me!” The vase missed him and smashed against the wall. “Don’t talk to me until you love me again.” She burst into sobs, but no tears flowed from her eyes. The undead didn’t weep like mortals.
He backed away, uncertain what to say or do.
Feeling like a coward, he turned and fled the room. Then he fled the inn, walking the streets with tangled thoughts. There was no way he could afford a house and servants in his current circumstances. What would that mean for her? Would she remain unhappy, feeling unloved?
He didn’t know what to do.
Teesha had once asked Rashed to make them a home, and Rashed had created not only the perfect home but a thriving business as well… in one fell stroke. Toret should at least be able to give Sapphire a house.
Finding himself out front of the Rowanwood, he went inside, looking about at the familiar setting. To the right was a large gaming room where people gambled with cards or dice.
Could he earn money at games of chance? That seemed risky, as he could just as easily lose.
Walking into the gaming room, he noticed a tall, young man with reddish-brown hair throwing dice down a table. The young man was well dressed, in a russet tunic and black breeches with a sword on his hip. People who cheered when he won and offered sympathy when he lost surrounded him, and he appeared to accept both as his due—but with a distinct lack of interest.
Something about his arrogant manner reminded Toret of Rashed.
“We should all have such luck,” someone said, and Toret turned to find a man standing him. The man must have noticed him staring at the dice table.
“Pardon?” Toret asked.
The man tossed his head toward the handsome dice thrower. “Him. His name’s Chane Andraso. His father’s still alive, but he got most of his inheritance upon coming of age anyway. Left his family’s estate and came here to live. I’d give my back teeth for the crumbs of what he’s got to spend.”
Toret went stiff.
For the crumbs of what he’s got to spend.
Toret had no idea how to steal someone’s inheritance… but maybe there was another way. This Chane Andraso could be the answer to all his troubles.
Glancing around, he saw a boy cleaning glasses off tables, and he moved over quickly, pressing a coin into the boy’s hand.
Motioning toward Chane, he said quietly. “Find out if that man is staying here, and if not, where he is staying, and there’ll be another coin for you.”
The boy looked down at the coin, and his eyes widened. He nodded.
· · · · ·
Although Toret hadn’t gone hunting in nearly a week, and he was hungry, he didn’t feed that night. After leaving the Rowanwood, he went home, walking back to the White Whistle.
Stepping into Sapphire’s room, he found she wasn’t alone, but was sitting at her dressing table having her hair curled by a slender girl.
At the sight of him in the mirror, Sapphire seemed to waver, and he knew her well enough to see that she was deciding whether to ask his forgiveness or throw another vase.
She opted for caution. “Well?” she asked, ignoring the girl with the hot iron.
He moved over and sat down on the bed, looking at her lovely neck. Of course she should have a house.
“I think I’ve found a way.”
She smiled.
· · · · ·
Three nights later, Toret was starving as he waited in an alley across the street from a small but well tended inn with a sign that read THE MAGPIE.
He’d learned this was where Chane Andraso had taken rooms, and by now he knew that Chane left at the same time almost every night to go gambling at the Rowanwood or some other gaming room, almost as if he resented his inheritance and couldn’t wait to spend it quickly enough.
Toret had other ideas, and the thought of enslaving someone who reminded him of Rashed was beyond appealing.
Once Chane was turned, Toret would be his master, and he would not be able to refuse any order—including signing over his inheritance.
Toret waited patiently. He had all night.
But right on time, Chane came out of the Magpie inn, his shoulders filling out his fine wool cloak, and he began walking alone down the dark street.
After a few moments, Toret slipped out to follow.
Sapphire would soon have her house and servants and anything else she desired.
She was his love.
Other Works
About “Pending” Works:
This indicator is only used for works confirmed for release within six months following the release of this text. Where a more specific schedule has been set, this is usually mentioned instead.
The Noble Dead Saga
by Barb & J.C. Hendee
Series/Phase 1
Dhampir
Thief of Lives
Sister of the Dead
Traitor to the Blood
Rebel Fay
Child of a Dead God
Series/Phase 2
In Shade and Shadow
Through Stone and Sea
Of Truth and Beasts
Series/Phase 3
Between Their Worlds
The Dog in the Dark [Jan. 2012]
[…and more to come.]
Tales from the world of
the Noble Dead Saga
by Barb and/or J.C. Hendee
“Homeward”
The Game Piece
The Feral Path
The Sapphire
The Keepers
“Bones of the Earth”
Karras the Kitten
Karras the Cat [pending]
Karras the Nameless [pending]
The Vampire Memories Series
by Barb Hendee
Blood Memories
Hunting Memories
Memories of Envy
In Memories We Fear
Ghosts of Memories [Oct. 2012]