by Noelle Ryan
The force of his desire swept through me, almost causing me to stagger backward. The urge to kiss him was intense, but I wasn’t sure if it was just my natural reaction to the sudden blast of longing that was filling both of us or an actual response to his command. At first, I didn’t care; I just stepped into him and locked my mouth onto his, enjoying the high of our thoughts mingling even more closely than our bodies were. And then I realized I was failing the test I’d asked for, so, despite every nerve ending screaming at me to stay precisely where I was, I pressed my hands against his chest and forced myself backwards.
I stood there for a moment, almost panting, until I’d convinced myself that, yes, I was capable of resisting his command and, no, I really didn’t want to. He simply watched me, holding completely still, his eyes burning. And then I stepped into him again, picking up where we’d left off.
I was about to tug him upstairs when I heard a car pull into the garage. I sagged, but Tom clutched me closer, demanding every last second of my attention. He released me just as we heard light footsteps approaching the back door.
Valerie walked in first, casting an appraising glance at our flushed cheeks and my tousled hair. She grinned. Damian, following her, either didn’t notice or didn’t care; he simply walked past us and deposited a new box of blood bags into the fridge. A third vampire, unknown to me, came in last. He was tall, with dark curly hair, eyes to match, and alabaster skin. And he absolutely reeked of power.
“Alyson, I would like to introduce you to Marcus, Temora’s second-in-command," Damian said.
Marcus stepped forward, enclosing my hand in a gentle-but-firm grip.
“Alyson, it is so lovely to meet you at last. I am looking forward to seeing you at work,” he said, bending over my palm to brush it lightly with his lips.
Well gee, having an incredibly powerful unknown vampire watching me over my shoulder shouldn’t make that difficult at all, I thought, and heard Tom’s chuckle echo through my mind. Out loud, I tried a different tack.
“It is an honor to meet you as well,” I replied, suppressing a grin as I heard Tom start coughing to cover his amusement at the disparity between my mental and vocal reactions.
“Are you well, Thomas?” Marcus said, turning.
“Yes, thank you, and you?” Tom said, hastily wiping his coughed-into hand against his shirt before extending it to Marcus. Marcus glanced down at Tom's hand as it were a chewed over dog toy, and did not shake it.
“Every day brings new adventures,” he replied, glancing briefly at me again, before casting his glance around the room. “This is my first time in your current home,” he continued, turning to Valerie and Damian, who were now standing together on the other side of the kitchen counter, “and I must say that, from what I have seen so far, it appears even lovelier than your last.”
“Thank you Marcus," Valerie said. "If you would care for a tour simply say the word.”
“Might we have time for a brief one now?” he asked. Valerie glanced at Damian, and he nodded. “Wonderful,” Marcus said, looking as delighted as a two year old, which I found interesting given how ancient he must be. “Please lead the way.”
As they left, Damian turned to Tom and I.
“I’d like to get everyone up to date. Where are Luis and Samuel?”
“Sam left a few minutes ago to clear his head,” Tom said tactfully. “He didn’t say how long he’d be. I haven’t seen Luis for a while, so I’m not sure if he’s here or not.”
Damian’s brow crinkled with displeasure.
“Luis!” he called out, raising his voice just enough that any vampire within half a block would be able to hear it—though to a human ear it might not even have been labeled a shout.
A moment later, Luis appeared, coming in through the back door.
“Yes, sire?”
“Have you seen Samuel?”
“I saw him leaving not too long ago on foot while I was engaged in target practice out back,” Luis said.
“Did he specify when he would be back?”
“No, we didn’t speak. Is everything alright?”
In response, Damian simply flipped out his cell phone and dialed. For someone with fairly arcane speech patterns, he nevertheless had a good control of modern technology—though given his penchant for research, I suppose that shouldn’t really have surprised me.
“Samuel, we are discussing our plans for tonight. Please return to the house immediately,” Damian said, and hung up. Then he turned back to face us. “It is unlike him not to answer. What, exactly, did he need to ‘clear his head’ about?”
I looked uncomfortably at the floor.
“I’m not certain," Tom said, "but I think a conversation we were having unwittingly triggered some painful memories about Samson. When he left he was pretty angry—that’s how the window was broken.”
Damian cast a quick glance at what was left of the window.
Thanks, I thought, relieved I hadn't needed to explain how I'd acted to Damian.
No problem, Tom replied, but I don't see why you feel so guilty about it. You did nothing wrong.
It doesn't feel like that to me.
Tom quirked his eyebrows, clearly waiting for me to explain, but I noticed Damian was staring at us and I put my attention into not looking as guilty as I felt instead.
”Luis," Damian said, "please track him down and call me as soon as you find him. I understand that he may not want to be around anyone right now, but we have an obligation to return to Cesar’s tonight given what happened to Joseph. Please let him know that he is welcome to take a month’s leave once this situation has been fully resolved.”
“Sire?” Luis looked confused. “Why not simply Call him to you?”
“I would prefer not to unless it proves necessary," Damian said. "Now go, before he gets any further.”
Luis darted out the door, his running footsteps fading into silence almost immediately.
What was that about? I asked Tom. The mixture of fatigue and suppressed anger on Damian’s face kept me from voicing my question aloud.
You mean the Calling thing? Damian, as a Master, could forcibly draw Sam, as a vampire who has sworn him allegiance, to him. He prefers persuasion to force, however; he once told me that genuine loyalty was far more important to him than mere fear.
So is that what Cesar was doing to me then, when I was dragged towards his house against my will? I asked.
Kind of. Calling doesn’t require telepathy, and since Cesar didn’t Call you until you were close, and he used telepathy simultaneously, I’m betting he needed to combine both of those skills to have any effect on you—and even that combination you were able to break.
So Damian wouldn’t be able to Call me?
Probably not, though if he tried I would imagine you might get the strong urge to go to him, if nothing else.
“A-hem,” Damian said, clearing his throat and looking at us drily. “If you two are finished, I would like to show Alyson some pictures of where and how Joseph was found, to see if it might trigger any realizations." He paused. "But first I'd like to know what really happened with Samuel."
"I'm sorry," I said. "It was my fault—"
"No it wasn't," Tom said, cutting me off. "I feel bad for Sam, but it's no reason for him to get a pass on acting like an asshole."
Damian sighed, a look of mild exasperation on his face.
"I can see this will take longer than I thought," Damian said. "We can postpone this discussion for later, then. Alyson's reactions to the photos are more important."
My gut clenched. Initially, I thought it was in response to the thought of looking at pictures of a dead vampire and the murder scene surrounding him. The thought would easily have made my stomach churn as a human, and I didn't see why that sensitivity would have disappeared. But then, as the pain lingered, I realized Dorothy was about to pay me another visit.
Twenty-one
Couldn’t you pick a more pleasant way to announce your presence? I asked
Dorothy. Like the smell of lavender water or something?
I heard a slight chuckle echo through me. I’m not the one that picked the painful cramping, dear; that was you. Some part of you must not like my visits very much.
Well, they can be a bit disorienting.
She laughed again. See, it’s yourself you need to convince of the aptness of lavender water. But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to warn you that this vampire’s murder—
Joseph’s?
—yes, Joseph’s. It’s some kind of a trap.
But how? Cesar no longer has anyone but the elf, and we now have a number of Temora’s people backing us.
That I can’t tell you. I only know what I felt as I visited the site earlier, and I felt very clearly that it was a trap.
I felt the clench in my stomach start to lessen, and I panicked.
Wait—did you pick up anything about a magical fertility horn?
A what? she asked, her voice fainter than it had been, and fading quickly.
It’s how Cesar has bound the elf, Marielle, to him. It’s made of crystal; we need to find it.
No, I know nothing of that. Her voice was so faint in my mind I could scarcely hear it anymore. I sighed, wondering if the horn even truly existed, or if Cesar had bound Marielle to him some other way. And then I realized I needed to ask Dorothy one other question.
How can I contact you?
There was no reply. Of course. I wasted time joking about lavender water and then didn’t remember to ask a far more important question until it was too late. Maybe I should return to my high school habits (and college, and grad school too, if I was being really honest with myself) of writing things on my hand. Or maybe I could just doodle a little lavender spring on my wrist.
Wow, that was incredible.
I almost called out Dorothy? before it registered that it was Tom’s voice I was hearing in my head.
Wait, you could hear all that? I asked.
Mmm-hmm—though it looks like you couldn’t hear me until she left. Are you all right?
Yeah, I’m fine, why?
I heard Tom’s chuckle in my head at the same time as I felt his hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and realized I was curled up on my side on the kitchen floor, clutching my stomach. I slowly uncurled, rolled on to my back, and then curved up and stood, shaking my head to clear the last of my mental fog. As I did this, Tom took it upon himself to share that Joseph’s murder was a trap of some kind, though neither of us could figure out how. He carefully omitted that the source of this new information was Dorothy, for which I was grateful.
“How marvelous. And you had yet to even display the pictures, much less take her by the site. What a find you have here, Damian. Perhaps Cesar is not as much of a fool as I took him to be—though of course he cannot be allowed to have her,” Marcus said.
I hadn't realized Marcus had returned in time to see my "performance." His tone was both pleased and patronizing, and it rankled. I didn’t turn to face him until I was certain I’d regained control of my facial expressions. When I did, I was slightly pleased to notice that everyone else seemed almost as affected as I was: Tom’s jaw clenched, though I could tell he was working to loosen it; Valerie’s nose was wrinkled, as if she had just smelled something very unpleasant; and Damian, who I had expected to find in complete control of himself, was betrayed by the slight narrowing of his eyes.
“Yes, my paidi mou is quite the treasure for our family,” Damian said, and though his tone was light, I had no doubt Marcus noticed the slight emphasis he’d placed on the “my” and “our.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Marcus bowed slightly, looking bored. “So will our plans for the evening change now that we know Cesar may have arranged for some sort of trap?”
I could tell from the renewed frustration in Tom’s thoughts that he saw Marcus’s use of the word “may” as his way of casting doubt on the validity of my talents. Fortunately, before he could land everyone into hot water by tossing off some of the insults that were running through his head—one or two of which were creative enough that I had a hard time not bursting into laughter—Valerie chimed in, speaking with far more formality than I was used to hearing her express.
“Marcus, I assure you that Alyson has never been anything but accurate. But no, her warning will not stop us, merely prepare us. Perhaps you might contact Temora and see if she would care to have her knights meet us in Nashville proper, rather than at Cesar’s, so that we could plan a more cautious approach from there?”
“Splendid idea, Valerie," Marcus said. "I’m sure she’ll be particularly interested to know the cause of our change of plans.”
One corner of his lip twitched for a moment, as if he were suppressing a smile, and I found myself wishing I could step inside his head for a moment.
Ugh, you couldn't pay me enough to get that close to something so…arctic, Tom told me.
Marcus pulled out the smallest cell phone I’d ever seen and stepped into the hallway. As he did so, Damian’s phone rang.
“Yes, Luis? Have you found Samuel?”
“Yes," Luis said, clearly audible, "but do you mind if we drive separately, and meet you there?”
Damian glanced around the room.
“There are five of us here currently," Damian said, "more than comfortably fit in my car. If you will come by here first to pick Valerie up to ride with you, then the three of you can drive separately. She can inform you of the changes to our plan as well. We will be leaving here in just a few moments.”
“We’ll be right there,” Luis said, and hung up.
Damian closed his phone thoughtfully. He looked like he was about to speak, but then he glanced at Marcus, who had just returned to the kitchen, and his mouth closed.
“Temora has offered us the use of the spare apartment she keeps in Nashville as our meeting point,” Marcus said.
“How generous,” Valerie said.
“Shall we head out then?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” Damian replied. “Valerie, you don’t mind waiting to ride with Luis and Samuel?”
“Of course not dear—we’ll see you there.”
Damian brushed his lips lightly across Valerie’s forehead as we left, and I realized it was the first physical gesture of affection I’d seen them exchange. I wondered if they just weren’t into public displays of affection, or if a hundred years of marriage had left the physical component of their relationship lacking.
That’s unlikely, I heard Tom chuckle in my head. You simply haven’t been here long enough to hear one of their more interesting nights. I’m sure Valerie makes the most out of having a husband with Damian’s skills.
You mean his ability to seduce people isn’t just a mind game?
Not from what I’ve heard.
He chuckled again, this time aloud, earning an inquisitive glance from Marcus and a sharp one from Damian. For a second I thought he’d somehow “overheard” our conversation, but then I realized he was probably just warning Tom and me not to make our telepathic exchanges obvious to our guest. I wasn’t sure exactly why I knew it, since it hadn’t been accompanied by any of my usual clairsentient sensations, but I was positive Damian disliked and distrusted Marcus. It confused me, since I was just as certain he admired and respected Temora. But then again, I’d never found human politics that logical, and I was sure things only got more complicated when there were literally hundreds of years of history underlying most Master vampires’ relationships with one another.
Why do you think I’m in no rush to become a Master? Tom chimed in, and I cast him a quick grin. I couldn’t blame him there. I could see where there would be plenty of advantages to being further down the chain of command, as long as the people above you weren’t cruel or spineless. And if climbing up the chain meant spending more time with vampires like Marcus…I suppressed a shudder.
I couldn't agree with you more, Tom said, then smiled as I buckled my seatbelt. You realize Damian has never once had a car accident, yes? Besides,
a car crash—unless it somehow decapitated you—could never kill you.
I grinned back. Yeah, but it could ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans.
Tom glanced down at my legs, and I heard his thoughts take a decidedly different turn.
Mmm—I can see why you like them. They do cling to you in particularly appealing ways.
His hand slid across the smooth stretch of leather between us and hovered above my thigh. His fingers curled slightly, and he began running his fingers across the denim so lightly that I shouldn't have been able to feel it at all. Instead, however, a rush of heat followed that barely perceptible wake. I bit my lip to keep myself from inadvertently giving us away—I did not want Marcus's patronizing tone raining on this particular moment.
Tom's thoughts picked up the tenor of my own, and his smile widened. He slowed his fingers further. Ironically, the effect on me was the opposite: I suddenly felt like I was flying through the woods again in a headlong rush, my blood racing.
Wait—how could my blood be racing? What was driving it?
Abruptly, the sexual tension took a back seat to my curiosity—not that I wasn't still painfully, deliciously aware of Tom's hand, but my questions were nagging louder.
I hate to see you distracted, Tom said, but I'm not sure I understand your question well enough to satisfy your curiosity.
I tried to put my thoughts in order, a task made somewhat more difficult by Tom's lingering hand, but I wasn't about to ask him to move it away.
I guess I just—when I first realized I was changed, I noticed I didn't have a heart beat anymore. But I felt something—some kind of movement, just subtler, barely perceptible. And now I can feel my blood rushing like it used to when I was human. What does that? What can make our blood rush like this, or like it does when I blush, without a heartbeat driving it?
Tom's hand stilled, and I almost regretted my question, but my curiosity won out again, albeit only barely.
It's a good question, Aly, and one I'm not sure how to answer. There's a lot we can only hypothesize about when it comes to vampire physiology—when we die, we devolve into whatever form our corpse would have been at as a human—which, for the older vampires, means turning into simple dust—but even for the younger ones there's nothing to effectively examine because it all becomes mere human physiology again. And our bodies heal too quickly to vivisect and see how we function while still alive—if that's what we are. So yes, we know something is moving the blood through our veins—how else could the blood we drink sustain us?—but we don't know what, or how. Most of us just take it for simple magic, and don't think about it too much.