Meeting Eternity (The Sullivan Vampires, Volume 1

by Bridget Essex

  I wasn’t in any danger from Kane.

  Maybe. Possibly.

  And if I was in danger from her…it didn’t seem like such a terrible danger after all.

  Again, my head began to argue with my body and my heart. My body that was completely and unapologetically attracted to that bewitching creature.

  And my heart that seemed utterly convinced that I knew her from somewhere. And that I loved her.

  I stopped at that as I considered it. My eyes sprung open, and I sat up so quickly that my heart began pounding even before I thought about all of those implications. I’d just met Kane Sullivan. We’d had some intense encounters, and I couldn’t deny my attraction to her, it was true, but love? It seemed impossible.

  But…hadn’t vampires seemed impossible, just last night?

  No. No. Absolutely not. I did not love Kane Sullivan.

  But you’re falling for her, my heart argued softly with my head.

  I couldn’t deny it. That much was true.

  And that fact made things tremendously complicated. Because not only was I falling in love with my new boss, the owner of this big, sprawling hotel where I currently found myself employed…but—perhaps the most pressing thing—I was falling in love with a vampire.

  To this day, I don’t truly understand how easily I believed the idea of vampires, that they existed and were real and owned the hotel in which I worked. Perhaps it was the fact that, all my life, I’d just been boring Rose Clyde who still hoped and wished desperately for something wonderful and interesting to happen to her. Perhaps it was because I was so attracted to Kane that I was willing to believe she was anything she wanted to be.

  But as I thought about it that evening, stretched out on my bed in my room on the fifth floor of the Sullivan Hotel, the sunset spilling into my window, burnished light lengthening the shadows on the old, well-sealed floorboards, I felt a strangeness uncurl in my belly, as if some memory had been loosed and would come back to me at the perfect moment, when it was good and ready.

  I suppose that the reason that I was accepting this all so easily was that it was, strangely…familiar.

  I got up, then. I was restless, and the wounds in my neck throbbed, a deep seated ache that made my jaw clench, that made me want to outpace it, if I could. I walked over to the far wall, where a gilt, antique mirror hung, its gold frame comprised of a bunch of little metal roses. I reached out and touched one, my finger brushing against the cool patina as I peeled back the throat of my new pajama top (who had put this pajama top on me? I blushed at the thought) with my other hand, and stared at the wounds.

  Before, that morning, I could see that these wounds had been ragged, bloody, torn flesh that showed muscle and blood. Mags had not been gentle. But now, they were almost completely, and impossibly…healed. Tiny pinpricks were in my shoulder, a little red, but hardly swollen, and nothing else besides. They still hurt terribly, but I had to admit that it wasn’t so much pain as an ache, the type of ache that happens a week or so after a hard injury.

  I couldn’t possibly have healed that quickly, even if I’d been out for days, laying in bed unconscious almost a week, and I had the feeling that all of the strange events had taken place only that morning. I couldn’t have healed in a day. It wasn’t possible.

  I set my jaw, then. I saw myself in the mirror, long, brunette hair unkempt and tumbling over my shoulders, my brown eyes wide and resolute as I stared at myself, stared deeply into my own eyes at the recognition that registered there.

  It was impossible, yes.

  And yet, it had also happened.

  There was a knock at my door.

  I warily glanced sidelong at that door, brows raised. I wanted time to process everything, figure out exactly what was happening, but life goes on, and we don’t always get the time we need.

  I crossed the room, placed my hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened it.

  Branna stood there, wearing the men’s suit and bow tie and a conciliatory smile, a bottle of wine dangling from one hand, the other holding a tray with a silver platter and silver cover on it, effortlessly aloft.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” she said soothingly, her smile deepening. “Mind if I come in?”

  My mind threw out the only predecessor I had for this. “Is this like in Buffy?” I managed, crossing my arms and frowning a little. “Do I have to invite you into my room for you to be able to enter?”

  She chuckled at that, a rich, throaty laugh that, despite myself, I found myself answering with a chuckle of my own.

  “That’s television vampires,” she said, raising a brow as she cocked her head to the side a little, her deep brown eyes flashing with bemusement. “Also, I do live in this building, too—so no.”

  I stepped aside, ushering her forward with my arm and closing the door behind her as she set the large tray on the table beside my chair, lifting the silver dome off the tray with a flourish.

  “Voila! Cheese lasagna—vegetarian, don’t worry—broccoli au gratin, and french fries covered in cheese. Gwendolyn did inform us that you are a fan of fromage.” She was grinning as she indicated the chair. “Please, sit—you must be famished.”

  And it was true—the second she removed the dome from the tray, my stomach gave a pitiful growl in protest. Suddenly, I was so hungry that the mountains of gooey cheese-coated things on the tray didn’t even seem like it would be enough to satisfy me. I sat down, sinking into the blue plush of the chair as I regarded Branna with a raised brow.

  “You need to eat to keep up your strength—the blood going through you is going to take a few days to become fully human. Until then, your senses will continue to be heightened, and you’ll be…hungrier than usual,” said Branna, leaning against the post of the bed as she appraised me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Achey, but okay,” I told her, lifting a forkful of gooey noodle to my mouth. The lasagna was the best I’d ever had the pleasure of tasting, and my eyes rolled back into my head a little as I breathed out with a sigh of happiness.

  “Rose, I have to tell you,” said Branna, then, leaning not on the post, but on the edge of the bed as she settled, crossing her legs in a picture of ease. “Mags would have finished you. Killed you. I don’t tell you this to alarm you,” she said, shaking her head and raising her hand when she saw my fork pause, “but to…well.” She ran that hand through her hair, then, the greased strands of it not moving an inch. “Normally, we don’t feed so…gruesomely as Mags would have done. We feed on willing…well, we call them ‘donors,’ or we get blood from other sources. We don’t need the blood of humans to survive, no matter what the movies or books have told you,” she said with a small smile. “So, when we feed, it’s quite a dainty affair. We don’t leave corpses.” Her voice took on a sharp tone, and I glanced up, again my fork hovering in mid-air. Her eyes, usually so bright and warm, flashed dangerously just then. “Mags was very out of line, and I wanted you to know that you have nothing to fear from her, going forward. But there is the slight problem…” Branna trailed off, her head to the side as she considered me. “You know now what we are.”

  I took a sip of water, unsure of what to say. Was Branna implying that others didn’t know? That it was a secret? I could imagine that something like this would be a fact they very much didn’t want to get out. But I wasn’t that kind of person. I didn’t really gossip, and I didn’t go around telling important secrets that weren’t mine to reveal to random people.

  “I won’t say anything,” I told her, setting the fork down beside my mostly empty plate. “Is that what you’re worried of?”

  “We’ve lived here for a hundred years in peace,” said Branna softly, one brow up. “Not to put too fine a point on it, my dear, but by Kane saving you, she has jeopardized all of that.”

  I don’t know why, but those words stung me. “I won’t say anything,” I repeated, but I tried to see it from her point of view, too. What reason would she have to believe me? I just felt, in that moment, tha
t she did have a reason, but I would never have been able to tell you what it was. It was just…a feeling.

  “Before I was turned, a very long time ago, I had a gift as a human that I was able to keep as a vampire. I’m what is best understood by the word ‘empath,’” said Branna then, standing in one smooth motion. “I can feel what you’re feeling, if you’ll let me. May I?”

  I didn’t exactly know what I was agreeing to, but I nodded, giving her my hand, as she seemed to be indicating by holding her palm out to me. She held my hand gently, delicately, her eyes glazing for a moment as she stared at the space over my head.

  Branna’s breath caught a little, after a heartbeat, and she dropped my palm as if it had stung her.

  I stood, all in a rush, because in that heartbeat, her pupils had dilated, and her incisors had seemed to…well. They’d grown.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head for a moment, licking her lips and closing her mouth. When she straightened, then, her incisors were perfectly normal, and her eyes were back to the same warm, rich brown. “Excuse me, please—I was startled,” she said with a polite smile, but there was a questioning glance behind it. “When I touched you, I felt that you spoke the truth about not wishing to reveal us. I don’t believe you’ll tell anyone, and when we have the meeting to decide what to do with you, I shall tell them that fact.”

  “Wait…what?” I said, stepping forward, touching her sleeve as she walked past, on her way to the door. My heart was pounding so quickly it seemed to be a roar in my ears. “First off…you’re having a meeting about me? What you’re going to do with me? And then…” I took a gulp of air, searched her eyes. “And what else did you see?”

  She shook her head, not meeting my glance. She looked tired. “Rose, please…”

  I tightened my hold on her sleeve, and she paused with a sigh.

  “I’ve read a lot of people in my very long life,” she said then, quietly. “And I remember every one. And when I first touched you, it seemed that I’d…well, that’d I’d read you before.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said, swallowing, my heart building to a crashing roar. “I’ve never met you before.”

  She searched my eyes then for a long moment. “You’re right,” she laughed a little, shaking her head. “We haven’t met, have we? It’s been a long day,” she said, and the words sounded exhausted. “I must just be tired.”

  I felt uneasy about that, but I didn’t know what else to say. “And the…the meeting?”

  “That’s tonight. Now, really,” she said, searching my face again. “We’re not going to do anything to you, Rose, so please don’t be afraid—you have no reason to fear us,” she whispered, then, voice soft. “But we all must decide if you should stay at the Sullivan Hotel or not.”

  Her words made me speechless for only a second. “Why don’t I get a choice in that?” I asked, then, anger pulsing through me again. “I feel that I should get a say in that decision. I did nothing. I didn’t want to be attacked. Why would I have to go?”

  She searched my face, eyes wide. “The question is, Rose, after everything you’ve found out this day…why don’t you want to go?”

  I took a step back. She was right, of course. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’d just realized that I was currently living in a big house full of vampires. And one of those vampires, that morning, had definitely tried to kill me. And she’d still be living in this house with me, too—I doubt they’d gotten rid of her. They were a “family,” after all.

  But, for all of that, I knew with my whole heart that I couldn’t leave the Sullivan Hotel.

  “Can I come to this meeting?” I asked her, my mouth suddenly dry.

  She hesitated for a long moment, then nodded slightly.

  “I’m going to get changed,” I said, resolve making my words not shake, courage building in my heart. “Can you wait outside for me? I’ll only be half a moment.”

  Branna bit her lip with a long sigh. And agreed.

  ---

  What do you wear to a vampire meeting?

  I opted for red.

  “You look…nice,” said Branna with a chuckle, and a shake of her head when I exited my bedroom door. She’d waited for me in the hallway, lounging against the wall as if she hadn’t had a care in the world. Branna was very easy about everything, the way she pushed off the wall, the way she inclined her head to me appreciatively, glancing me up and down in my red dress (it was hardly revealing, but it was a nice dress, and it showed off my curves, and red seemed like an appropriate—albeit cliché—color to be around vampires in) and offering her arm to me in one smooth motion.

  I’d been wondering about something, and now seemed like the best time to say it of any. Here’s another thing about almost dying: it makes you pretty bold.

  “Branna, are all of the vampires here lesbian?” I asked, my mouth going dry as I said the words, and they were pretty pointed, but if I was going to be kicked out of the house, it’d be nice to know at least what I’d been missing.

  Branna’s mouth quirked sideways at that, and she suppressed a chuckle as I slipped my arm through her proffered one, resting my fingers on the top of her forearm gently.

  “Please—call me Bran,” she said, voice light. “And though that word, ‘lesbian,’ is relatively new, in the grand scheme of history…yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call us,” she said, inclining her head toward me so that the word “yes” drifted with warm, sweet breath over my skin. I shuddered at that, my pulse racing. Branna looked ahead, then, down the hallway as we walked together. “Kane started the…family,” said Branna softly, biting her lip. “A very long time ago. She wanted to find people who were like her. It’s lonely, this existence, and she didn’t want to be alone. So we found others who matched our ideals, who, like us, preferred the company of the…sweeter sex.” Her warm, rich voice elicited another throaty chuckle. “And, believe it or not, I know your next question, my dear. No, we don’t usually prefer the romantic company of other vampires, so no, we don’t perform mass orgies in the halls. That’s not how this family was built or why we are together, for frequent, easy and constant sexual congress.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask that,” I said with a flush, but I’d been about to ask something similar. Vampires and sex seemed to be inextricably linked. “I’m just so curious about all of you,” I told her, then, which was very true. “Are you undead? Are you dead? Are you cursed? Do you have souls? I’m sorry,” I realized, all in a rush, as she cast a sidelong, bemused glance at me, “if any of this is offensive. I just don’t know what’s real, based on things like television and books and stuff like Dracula.”

  “Ah, Dracula,” said Branna with a chuckle. “Did you know that its author, Bram Stoker, actually stole most of his material? Ah, rather he was inspired by another work of fiction. It came much earlier than Dracula, but no one much knows of it. It’s called Carmilla. Have you ever heard of it?”

  I shook my head, but she didn’t allow me to feel ignorant. “Don’t worry, ma chere, not many people have.” She inclined her head toward me, the slant of her mouth charming. “Though it is, I must admit, a very sweet little book. It is about a vampire woman,” she said, with twinkling eyes, “who loves another woman with all of her heart.”

  I stared at her in open shock (if it came before Dracula, this made the book pretty darn old—and it contained lesbians? Would wonders never cease…) and she nodded with a laugh. “Though, I must admit, it doesn’t get the science of vampirism right either, it’s a very lovely tale.” She cocked her head, considering my questions. “We have never died, no—we’re still very much alive, but we’re not truly immortal, as you consider that definition. Vampires simply live for a very long time. We are not cursed, and if you believe that human beings have souls, then yes—we have souls, too. Vampirism is a sort of…super virus,” she explained, anticipating my next string of questions. “It’s transmitted with blood, but quite a bit of blood, and you must be almost entirely draine
d in order for it to work. A vampire must give most of his or her blood to you once you’ve been almost completely drained. Being a vampire makes you stronger, faster, more powerful than a human being, with a much-extended lifespan, and you crave blood. And that’s really it. We don’t sleep in coffins. But the sunlight does affect us as a side effect of the virus—we can be in it, but not for very long, or we become weak.” She laughed. “Garlic sadly doesn’t work on us, and yes—you can see us in mirrors. A lot of people built a lot of superstitions around us, because, of course, people rising from their graves is a somewhat off-putting thing. Humans fear death, and we don’t have mastery over it, but I suppose it looks like we do. Thus we were feared, and stories tend to grow around that thing you are afraid of.”

  I pondered all of this for a long moment, turning things over in my heart. “Are all vampires like you? Like the Sullivans?” I wasn’t certain how to phrase it, but it seemed to me from how Kane had been so angry about Mags attacking me that they weren’t any sort of blood-thirsty, human-killing vampires, but I didn’t know if this was true of all vampires.

  Branna shook her head, her mouth tightening. “No. We’re peaceful. We want to be left alone, live out our lives in peace, spend time together in friendship and…love.” She looked at me quickly before continuing: “but others do not want the same things. There are many vampires who seek to destroy and kill. So no. Like all humans, all vampires are different.”

  I was awash with a million more questions, but we’d found our way to the ornate door carved round with cherubs and vines and violets and I knew it led to the drawing room I’d been taken to yesterday. I straightened my shoulders as Branna took a step forward, her hand poised to knock on the door.

  But Dolly opened it, Branna’s hand falling on air.