by Claire Cray
My lips curled as I turned to face Theo.
“Stubborn bastard, isn’t he – whoa!” Theo threw his hands up in surrender as I stormed over to him and grabbed him by the lapels, shoving him against the wall.
“I should break your neck!” I hissed.
He laughed, incredulous. “What have I done?”
“Did you go to my mother’s house?”
“Oui? Why do you ask?”
I slammed him against the wall. “Stay away from her!”
He glanced over his shoulder, grimacing faintly. “How clean is this wall?”
“Hey!”
“Yes! Merde, I didn’t even sniff her neck. Wished I had, later. Lovely woman, your mother...” He held up his hands again at my growl. “All right, all right! No paying visits to the boy-thing’s mother, I get it!”
I let him go, fuming, though it seemed he was getting off easy. I wished I were a more violent sort. And, of course, that Theo didn’t outmatch me by laughable degrees by virtue of his damned immortal strength.
Theo turned. “Is there dust on my back?”
“Just bird shit.”
He peeled off the jacket as quickly as he could, horrified. “Ass,” he sniffed when he found I was lying, and slung the jacket over his shoulder. “So? How’s the master of the house? Still fighting back his urges, I see?”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, it is easier to calm the appetite here.” Theo lifted his head, breathing in the cool late summer breeze. “New York. It’s not so bad. So, where are we off to?”
“You’re mad.”
“Oh, don’t play games. I know you’re dying to talk to me.”
“You’re truly mad.”
“Not so, young morsel. I’m much more intuitive than you think, as you’ll learn well when the time comes.” He put his arm lightly around my shoulders and gently led me toward the street. “Let’s walk, shall we?”
I gingerly removed his arm, sighing, but followed along. He was right. I was much too curious to pass up a chance to converse with Theo, no matter how much he irritated me.
“Are you afraid?” Theo asked.
“Of what?”
“Becoming a creature of the night, silly boy.”
“No.”
“Come, now.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Me?” Theo laughed. “No! I begged for it.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to live forever.”
I thought about that one. “Did you ever regret it?”
“Regret can kill you. And what’s to regret? I’m living forever.”
“And what about killing, you never regret that?”
“Ah, well.” Theo brushed something from his shoulder. Then he grinned at me. “You see? I knew you wanted to talk to me.”
“So? What about killing?”
“Why don’t you ask Merrick?” Theo’s grin widened, and then he shook his head. “I jest. You poor thing, you are lucky to have me around.”
“How on earth do you figure that?”
“Because Merrick will be a lousy teacher. He’s too ashamed of us.”
“Ashamed of who?”
“Vampires!” Theo said impatiently. “Merde, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
I pressed my lips together, wanting to sock him. Oh, well. “Why is he ashamed of vampires?”
“There’s not a thing about it that doesn’t shame him. He’s ashamed of the killing, ashamed of the blood he takes to feed his own, ashamed of the pleasure it gives him, ashamed of his own beauty.”
“His own beauty?”
“Well, it draws his prey, you see.” Theo laughed.
“Has he always hated it?”
“I didn’t say he hates it. I said he is ashamed.” Theo held his nails up for his own casual inspection. “No vampire hates it. There’s too much pleasure involved.”
“What pleasure?”
“In the blood. In the killing. In the strength and the powers.”
“What powers?”
“You’ll see.”
I sighed at the obtuse answer, but I was grateful that he was talking to me. After a few moments I asked, “Did you stop seeing everyone you knew when you became a vampire?”
Theo’s laugh was a melodic sound, like crystal bells. “I was not quite the man about town you are.”
“Will I still be able to see my mother?”
“You and your mother!” Theo marveled, then admitted, “Well, she is lovely. I had a lovely mother, too. I’ve just forgotten.” He tossed his hair. “You can see your mother. At night.”
“Will she not notice my eyes?”
“Clever boy, of course she will. There’s a way to get around it, but it isn’t the nicest. If you go very, very thirsty, you will lose some of your otherworldly charms – including these brilliant orbs. You will also look sick and tired and pale, and you will be desperate to drink her blood. So it’s your choice.”
Then, suddenly, he changed the subject. “He doesn’t miss me yet, does he?”
“He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Ah, you little bastard,” Theo sighed. “Getting him all to yourself.”
“When did you meet?”
“In Italy, in 1552. I found him myself and took him under my wing.”
“You’re older than he is?”
“No! I was turned in 1538.”
I did the math quickly. He was 279 years old. It struck me suddenly how remarkable this was. “Are you all so old?”
“Hardly,” Theo scoffed. “Well,” he amended. “Out of those who survive past a hundred and fifty or so, I suppose many go on for centuries more. But many go to sleep instead.”
“Why?”
“They are not creative enough to keep themselves amused for hundreds of years. Or they succumb to melancholy.”
“Have you met many others?”
“At times I meet them. But I prefer not to. It is hard to make friends among vampires.”
“Why?”
Theo shrugged. “Some are wonderful. But few of our generation. Different eras, different beasts…”
He caught my hand suddenly and stopped me. “Tell me, morsel. Is he truly well?”
“He seems well.”
“I wonder how long this can last, this thing between you…”
“How do you know what you know?” I asked, suddenly puzzled. “How do you know that every vampire must make another vampire in order to go on?”
“Not every vampire must. Those without conscience simply turn cold and wicked.”
I had wondered about that – whether it could be true that every vampire was eventually so overwhelmed by guilt. “Then it is principally a crisis of conscience.”
Theo gave me an incredulous scowl. “You want to wax philosophical now? Are you afraid you won’t have time for it later? You will. Trust me.”
I conceded with a nod. It was easy to take Theo lightly, but I tried to remember there was much more beneath his glittering, flippant demeanor – two and a half centuries more. “Still,” I insisted. “How do you know he must turn me?”
Theo put his hands in his pockets, lifting his chin and breathing in the night air again. “It isn’t only thirst that drives us. We don’t just want to drink your human blood, Will-iam. We want to drink it all.” His blue eyes slid sideways to meet mine. “Understand?”
I almost wished I didn’t. But I still remembered what Merrick had said when I’d asked him if he often killed: It is difficult to be satisfied if I do not. Did Theo not mean that it was human death they craved as much as human blood? That my humanity triggered not only Merrick’s thirst, but his drive to kill?
It was a chilling thought. “Suppose he is able to resist indefinitely.”
“See how that goes!” Theo laughed wickedly and leaned in close, dropping his voice to a murmur. “You cannot imagine what feelings overcome him, what hunger consumes him each time you bare your throat. I am sure he is very good at hiding it.”
His blue eyes dropped to the space below my ear. “But how long can a wolf and a lamb share a bed?” There was a feral gleam in his smile.
I made to move away, but found myself caught by his hands at my jacket. I wrenched myself free, scowling.
Theo blinked, and then looked amused. “Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away. It happens so easily, you see.” He stepped back. “Moving here has bought you some time. Plenty of other lambs here to stave off hunger. But don’t underestimate the instincts you are putting to the test.”
I had no reply.
“Well!” Theo said cheerfully. “You’ve worked up my appetite! I must be off. It’s been a pleasure, young morsel Lacy.”
“Stay out of the lower east. And stay away from my mother.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve already heard my orders.” He sauntered off ahead of me, flipping a salute without looking back.
Chapter 31
“Merry Christmas, William.”
My mother kissed me warmly outside of the carriage, looking fresh and beautiful in her new green velvet cloak and fine black hat.
“Merry Christmas, Mum,” I murmured, hugging her close.
What a perfect day it had been.
That morning, I’d surprised her at home her gifts. My heart ached with love when I saw her face light up at the cloak and hat, and I nearly burst for joy that afternoon when I led her into Merrick’s comfortable dining room for a fine Christmas dinner prepared by the cooks.
When Merrick had suggested that I bring Mum for the holiday, I was stunned and delighted. We agreed that we could conceivably manage the introduction, for she had never known anything of his age or appearance. Just to be safe, Merrick went thirsty for two days leading up to Christmas and used a few cosmetic tricks to make himself look older. By the time he was done, he could believably pass himself for a well-preserved man in his mid-thirties.
When they met, he kissed her hand and clasped it warmly, making her acquaintance with such charm that I was glad she made such a happy spinster; otherwise, he might have stolen her heart. And he entertained her graciously all through dinner. I couldn’t recall having had such a wonderful time. We talked well into evening, the two of them holding forth on the city and the forest and the Indians whose blood we shared.
Now, outside of the carriage, Merrick kissed her gloved hand. “It was a great pleasure, Madam.”
“The pleasure was entirely mine, Sir,” she replied, her dark eyes warm and pleased. He had charmed her entirely.
I helped her into the carriage and bid her goodnight, then watched it disappear down the snowy road. It was bitterly cold, and I was shivering.
I wondered where Theo was. Perhaps he was not the type to care about Christmas. Or perhaps he was celebrating with his own feast.
In Merrick’s bedroom, beneath the warm blankets, I pulled him close and kissed him tenderly all over his lips and cheeks and neck. I rubbed my face against his chest, holding him tight, thanking him silently for sharing such a lovely celebration with my little family. And he held me close, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. His hands were cold, which I knew now as a sign of thirst.
“Will you go out?” I whispered, running my hands through his hair.
He smiled against my cheek. “On Christmas? No. Let them all walk in peace.”
I imagined there were plenty of non-observers out there who could be of assistance – but that was a strange thought to have. I brushed it aside lightly and gently pulled his face toward my neck.
He kissed me softly there, where my vein ran close to the surface of my skin, but shook his head and turned his face away.
“To tide you over,” I coaxed, then added, “For Christmas.”
His hands tightened on my back. His whisper was quiet, almost inaudible. “I should not be close to you when I am thirsty, William.”
I lifted his head and gazed into his eyes. They were beautiful even without their otherworldly shine, and I loved them. “I am ready,” I said softly, and quickly continued when I saw on his face that he was about to protest. “But I would like my birthday to have a nice, round number. Something easy to keep track of over the centuries.”
He made a pained expression, but there was an abashed trace of amusement in his eyes, too. He ran the back of his hand gently down the side of my face. “Is that so?”
“January 1st, 1800. It sounds very modern, doesn’t it?”
Merrick seemed unable to suppress a small smile. “William,” he murmured, shaking his head. “How are you so strange?”
“I assume you mean that kindly…” I was surprised by a firm kiss.
Merrick teased my lips until I was soft in his arms, and then he began to kiss his way down my neck. “1801 sounds even more modern,” he breathed close to my ear.
“I’m just telling you what I think,” I said peacefully, and gasped when his teeth scraped gently against my skin. I squeezed his shoulders, urging him on.
“I will do my best to make you happy, William.”
“I will do the same for you, Merrick,” I breathed. He had broken the skin, and was gently tasting the small drops of blood that rose to the surface. I sighed with pleasure. “Damn it, please, drink…”
And he did.
Message from the Author
Thank you for reading my strange little story! I hope you enjoyed getting to know William and Merrick. I’m sure I’ll see them again sometime soon – I can’t help wondering how things will turn out for them.
Did you know that indentured apprenticeships really were quite common in early America? Young boys and girls as old as eighteen could be bound by the court to work under a tradesman for several years, either because they’d fallen on the wrong side of the law or because their families were too poor to support them. I’m pretty sure benevolent (hot) masters like Merrick didn’t exactly exist in abundance, though. Lucky William.
Update: Guess what, friends? The sequel to this book, William, is available now!
Until next time,
Claire Cray
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More Titles from Claire Cray
William
(A sequel to Merrick.) It is the year 1800 and it looks like William Lacy will be young forever. The price is high: no more book-selling, no more rowdy nights at the tavern, and no more New York. From now on it’s a quiet life in the darkness…marked by acts once considered unspeakable. And the reward? The reward is Silas Merrick. While unraveling the secrets of the dark and alluring man who’s taken over his life, William has seen mysteries revealed and desires laid bare. But there are greater depths and darker waters yet as he learned to face the life he’s chosen for love.
Thirsting for More
Quiet vampire Cal has harbored a painful crush since becoming an immortal seven years ago. Ira is more rock star than vampire: arrogant, fickle, impulsive, impossibly gorgeous and heartbreakingly straight, he comes and goes as he pleases with no apparent regard for Cal’s wishes or feelings. When Ira disappears for the millionth time, Cal decides to get over him for good – but the rock star returns with a shocking proposal that threatens to change their dynamic forever. (Short story)
Backwoods Beast
When lifelong city boy Kyle ends up stranded by the side of the highway in the middle of the Oregon backwoods, even his fear of rednecks can't prepare him for the beasts he finds in the little town of Nester. His only hope lies with Eli, the gorgeous local who promises to get him out of town before the full moon rises...but not until he's had a taste of Kyle for himself! (Short story)
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Cover art for Merrick Copyright 2012 Claire Cray
(Adapted from a painting by J.M.W. Turner)
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