Lies in Blood

by A. M. Hudson

  “In the flesh,” I muttered awkwardly, sinking my neck into my shoulders.

  He checked all four corners of the room, his brow furrowed. “Ar? You here?”

  “Over here, dummy.” I laughed.

  He walked slowly toward me, his eyes small. “Is . . . is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me,” I said, but as I went to slap him, my hand went right through his. “Whoa.”

  He stepped closer, the green in his wondering eyes reflecting the glowing orb of blue he was staring at. “Look at you, pretty girl. So lovely in blue.”

  I looked down at my own hands, seeing them as ghostly fog. “What’s happening, Jase?”

  “You’re dreaming.”

  I waved my hands through the chilly air. “Some dream, huh? It feels so real.”

  He glanced back at his kill, echoes of her screams shadowing his eyes, and humbly lowered his head. “You were never supposed to see me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  He exhaled, wiping his wrist across his bloodied mouth. “Like a killer.”

  “You weren’t that bad. Besides. . .” I looked over at the limp girl. “This is only a dream. You don’t really kill like that, right?”

  His jaw went tight. “What if I did?”

  “What if you did?” I repeated playfully.

  “Would you hate me?”

  I laughed, rolling my head back. “No. Silly.”

  “Really?”

  “Why would I? I know what you are—I always have.”

  He scratched his head and looked down at his shoes, taking a sharp breath through his teeth. “Then, I uh—I better tell you. . .”

  “This . . . isn’t a dream, is it?”

  “No.” He shrunk into himself a little, as if my hand were waiting in the air with a giant slap at the ready. “You’re outside your body right now.”

  “I am?” I looked at my hands again.

  “Yes. You’re . . . you’re a wandering soul. You don’t even have a face.”

  I touched my face. “Freaky. So, what do I look like?”

  “Blue light.”

  “Really? ‘Cause I look pretty normal to me. Just kind of see-through.”

  “Like a ghost?”

  “Yeah.” I looked back up at Jason, but his eyes kept flicking over my entire body, not really fixing my gaze like they normally did. “But I feel normal.”

  “I know.” He smiled at me. “But I really wish you hadn’t ended up down here.”

  We both glanced slowly at the dead girl.

  “I’m really not that sensitive anymore, Jase.”

  “Still. . .” he said, and left it hanging, switching again to the light, carefree Jase I loved so much. “Why do you always end up with me when you escape your body?”

  “Didn’t know I did.”

  “Well. . .” He looked down at his shoes, stuffing both hands in his pockets. “You do.”

  I shrugged, but he wouldn’t have seen it as a shrug. “Guess I just miss you.”

  “Yeah, I miss you too, little glow bug.” He reached out and brushed his hand affectionately through my arm; it felt warm and tingly, kind of like standing right next to the air vent on a heater. “But you better get back, your colour’s fading, and I have a body to dispose of.”

  “Okay then.” I nodded, peeling my eyes away from the thumb he aimed at his kill. “I’ll come see you later. I wanna talk more about this.”

  “You won’t remember it,” he said factually, turning away.

  “I won’t?”

  “Nope.” He bent down and looped the dead girl’s arm over his neck. “You never do.”

  ***

  What David and I had done in this bed with each other over the past few weeks had surely ruined Arthur’s turkey baster plan. I’d held off as long as I could, but couldn’t exactly tell my husband I didn’t want to have sex with him in case I fell pregnant and ruined his uncle’s and my plan to save him from certain death. So, I let him have me last night, all of me, and prayed now, as I laid here in his sleeping arms, that we hadn’t conceived. I wished it didn’t matter. I wished I could imagine his life force moving through me, inside me, electrifying things to existence within my body. I wished I could cup my hand over my belly and imagine the colour of her hair, or if she’d have his eyes or mine. What kind of smile she’d have, whose temperament she’d have. But all of those dreams belonged to normal people—to people who were human and not immortal weapons, whose vampire-hunting child was foretold to be powerful enough that one of the oldest immortals in the world wanted her dead before she could even say her first word.

  “Morning,” David said sleepily, and all my thoughts halted, my hand falling away from my belly.

  “Hey.” I rolled slightly to look up at him; his stubble had grown in thicker overnight, making him look gruff and sexy, covering his dimple just enough that it looked like a ditch in the ground covered by grown-in grass. And under his thick, dark brows, pulled together slightly as he studied my eyes, those shining green emeralds stood out, brightening my day. “I love the feel of your hand on my back first thing in the morning.”

  “Is that so?” He spread his fingers wider, waking each inch of my skin he touched, firmly cupping my hip and moving his fingertips just into the rim of my underwear, a naughty millimetre away from my butt-crack. “And I love feeling you in my hands first thing in the morning,” he added.

  I giggled, pressing my head into his kiss. “Woke up on the right side of bed today, huh?”

  “When I wake with you snuggled into me like this.” He squeezed me. “I can’t possibly wake in a bad mood.”

  “Well, you’ve woken up late today.” I patted his chest and pushed off it gently to sit, tucking my legs to one side. “Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

  He rolled onto his side, his body going long as he grabbed his watch off the nightstand and checked it. “Lucky I’m a speedy vampire and can break records for getting showered and dressed.”

  I copied his lively smirk. “Yes, but it’s a pity you’re not the king and can just decide breakfast isn’t all that important today.”

  “And what, pray tell, is more important than dining in community with our people?”

  I moved one shoulder up shyly to my ear, and David’s smile spread across his face, his white fangs gleaming in the early light, warming my blood with a pang of hunger. But not hunger for the kind of food we’d have in the Great Hall.

  “You, my girl—” He cupped my chin and slid his thumb down it, “—are insatiable.”

  “But, insatiable and still bound to my queenly duties, right?” I said, knowing he was about to throw the covers back and get up to break that record.

  “Just as I am bound as king.” He winked, and disappeared behind the bathroom door, leaving my bed empty, aside from the mound of proverbial duty I couldn’t escape.

  ***

  I’d not heard a guitar being played in so long I couldn’t remember the last time. And I knew David’s style, knew before I even heard his voice rising above it that he was playing. But I wasn’t exactly sure who the second guitarist was.

  I wandered down the stairs to the Great Hall and crossed the room, hugging myself. The dining table was empty now, all the breakfast dishes removed and the people disbursed, but a small group was still lingering, settled on chairs in a disorderly circle beside the fireplace under the great picture of Lilith.

  David smiled up at me, and I stopped dead, my jaw dropping when I saw Jason sitting beside the king, the two of them in white T-shirts and dark jeans, entertaining the staff with their musical talents. They were actually laughing and joking with each other, the air around them charged with a very radiant kind of energy. And it seemed that, when it came to me, those two could tear each other’s throats out, however, take me out of the picture, and it was as if no conflict had ever arisen between them. Which, I guess, was the way they had to be after a hundred-and-twenty years under the same roof. It kind of made me feel bad for coming between th
em.

  “Okay,” David said, tuning the E string. “Let’s try some Jeff Buckley.”

  “Fine, but I’m singing this time.” Jason elbowed his brother. “Otherwise we’ll get a pack of curious cats in here wondering what all the crying’s about.”

  David reached out and flicked Jason playfully across the back of his head. “Right. Let’s do this.”

  Jason strummed once, getting a nod of approval from David, then started plucking the strings.

  I leaned my butt against the dining table, keeping my arms folded, trying my hardest to hold the grin back. I always knew David could sing, but Jason was right—not about David sounding like a dying cat, but that he was a little better. Jason had a better mid-range and his voice flowed easily from chest to falsetto. David had a more gruff, kind of sexy voice. Both of them great, but also surprisingly different.

  The staff sang along with Jason, clapping and dancing, united as equals for this small moment in time. Right now, David was not their king, and Jason was just his brother—the past we all shared just an inconsequential thing that happened once.

  The song ended to a round of applause, David and Jason taking overly theatrical bows.

  “Thanks, folks, we’ll be here all week.” David placed his guitar in its case.

  “Thank you,” Jason said quietly to a maid who took his guitar for him.

  “Good to see you two getting along.” I clapped a few times as I walked over.

  Both boys stood, and the staff quietly went back to work, tidying the chairs before they left.

  “It happens from time to time,” David said, kissing my cheek.

  “Yeah, when there aren’t any girls to come between us,” Jason added lightly, winking at me.

  “Well, it’s nice to see.” I rolled myself into David’s embrace, wrapping my arms all the way around his chest. I knew that scene—seeing the boys play guitar together like that—would stay in my memory forever: a rare file in the ‘happy memory’ column. “Speaking of see, have you guys seen Em or Morg? I’m supposed to have another politics and boring stuff lesson today,” I added.

  “Nope,” David said, breaking away to close his guitar case. “But if you find one you find the other.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty much glued at the hip, aren’t they?” Jason picked up his guitar case.

  “You mean fused.” David laughed, snapping his locks closed. “I think Mike’s got cause to worry there.”

  “Why?” I asked, sitting on the last remaining chair.

  Jason and David looked at each other then at me.

  “Why?” I repeated.

  “You know what girls are like,” David said.

  “Uh, no.” I blinked a few more times than necessary. “I don’t.”

  “Once they get talking, a relationship problem becomes gossip, girls unite, and then a simple mistake sees us guys in the dog house,” Jason added.

  “Relationship problem?” I stood up. “Who’s having problems?”

  “Em and Mike,” Jason said.

  David glared at him before looking at me. “That’s her business, Ara. Don’t get involved.”

  “How can I not? Mike and Em are my best friends, David.”

  “I know.” He touched my shoulder and leaned in to kiss my cheek again, maybe marking me in some immature display of ownership. “But it’s not our place to interfere. We’re not in their relationship, so we can’t pass judgement.”

  “Who’s passing anything?” I said. “I’m more worried about what Morg’s saying to Em. I think she has thing for Mike. What if she’s advising Emily out of the relationship?”

  Jason gave David a smug grin. “Told ya.”

  I looked at David. “Told you what?”

  “I told him you wouldn’t get caught up in the drama of it all.” Jason stuffed his capo in his back pocket. “We’re worried about the same thing.”

  “Then I should go find them,” I decided.

  “Okay.” David grabbed his guitar case. “Just . . . Remain objective, okay? Don’t listen to too much of what Em says about Mike. You know what he’s like.”

  I nodded. “I know he loves her. I know he’s. . .” I thought about it, having a laugh to myself for a second, “—downright stupid when it comes to girls sometimes, but I’ve also known him longer than she has. She can’t badmouth him in front of me, I won’t let her.”

  “Good.” David nodded. “Because that kind of chatter is infectious. Before you know it, an argument she had with Mike will become a full-scale cause for hatred. Don’t let Morg get inside her head.”

  “Yeah, she’s good at that,” Jason added, and both boys walked away, side by side.

  ***

  “Hey, what’re you guys doing?” I asked, catching them on the stairs.

  “Sleepover,” Emily said.

  “Sleepover?”

  “Yeah.” Morgaine stepped past Emily. “Mike and Em had a fight. She doesn't want to sleep in the same room.”

  I noticed Em’s red eyes then. “Are you okay, Em?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice still shaky. “I just…you know what he’s like.”

  “Um, no.” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “He just doesn't get it.”

  “Ara won't either, Em.” Morgaine wrapped her arm around Emily. “She's his best friend.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  “He doesn't listen to me,” she started, and it all came pouring out with tears. “He doesn't understand what I'm trying to say. He thinks I'm being needy and bitter, when all I want is for him to want to spend time with me. That's all. I just want him to want to. He doesn’t even have to, that’s not what I’m after, you know. And I know he doesn't have time, but…it’s just, maybe if he’d meet with me for a coffee every morning, or even invite me, or maybe if he’d spent time with me last night instead of going fishing with the boys, then I wouldn’t be so upset. I don’t want all his time…” She took a few jagged breaths. “I just want him to want to be with me, even though he can’t.”

  “How do you know he doesn’t want that?” I asked.

  Emily wiped her cheeks, angling her face away from me. “He doesn’t show it.”

  I sighed, dropping my arms. “For what it’s worth, Em, I do understand. And I also understand why Mike doesn't understand how you feel.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “He’s just…that's just how he always was with girls, before he and I were together.”

  “But I'm not just some girl. I'm his fiancé.” She held up her ring hand.

  I shrugged. If she thought she would be any different, she was kidding herself. She knew Mike only for the curse-captured, obsessed version of himself he was with me. But that just wasn’t who he was.

  Morgaine hugged Emily close, rubbing her back. “Where’s David, Ara?”

  “Um, he’s on the phone to National Security, dealing with some human issue.”

  “Well, come on then.” She grabbed my hand, keeping an arm around Em. “You’re having a sleepover with us.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But no scary movies.”

  Emily and Morg exchanged grins.

  “Knock, knock,” David said softly, peering into the dark room.

  “Shh.” Morg scowled at him.

  He pretended to zip his lips, then tiptoed in slowly and crawled onto the bed between Emily and I.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

  “Missed you.”

  I reached down and linked my fingers through his, cupping my other hand over his wrist.

  “What are we watching?” he asked.

  “Shh.” Em jammed her elbow in his ribs.

  “Ow.” He laughed and poked her back.

  “Chick flick,” I whispered.

  He turned his head to look at Emily, then Morg, and laughed quietly, swiping a tear from Em’s cheek. “Sad movie?”

  “Shut up,” Emily said. “Just because you lack the ability to show any human emotion.”

  “I
'm beginning to see why I stopped in the first place,” he said playfully, then wrapped his other arm over Emily’s shoulder and pulled her ear to his lips. “What happened?”

  I was about to fill him in on the plot line, when Emily’s lip trembled, and I realised quickly that he wasn’t referring to the film.

  My gaze went back to the TV set. I knew anything she had to say would be said in thought—not for my ears, clearly. She was so upset tonight, which could only mean there was more to this story than she’d said. But, of course, she wasn’t about to badmouth Mike with me in the room. I think she knew, deep down inside, which side I’d take. But she was kidding herself to think David would side with her, either; he and Mike were two peas in a pod.

  “I’ll talk to him for you,” David said in that deep, whispery tone.

  She shook her head. “Don't bother. I'm not sure I care anymore.”

  “Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be crying.”

  “This would be so much sadder if they were vampires, not humans,” Morg cut in, her mouth full of popcorn.

  “Just pretend they are,” I said.

  “You’re not crying, Ara,” David stated, removing his arm from around Emily. “You always cry in these movies.”

  “Guess I've done my fair share of crying for the next decade or so.”

  He sat forward and looked at my face, sinking back again with a sigh. “I'm sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “Just…” He scratched his chin, leaving his hand just under it for a second after. “I just wish I’d taken better care of you.”

  My words were lost, and I think Morg and Em were so shocked by it, even they held their breath. I felt the awkwardness saturate the air then, as both girls slowly turned back to watch the movie, and David looked on with a certain amount of trouble behind that gaze. He wasn't watching the movie at all; he was lost in whatever picture of the past he’d just apologised for. But we all looked up, Morg pausing the film, when a loud rap came down on her door, and before she even got off the bed, the tension rose in the room with the scent of Mike outside.