by Tinnean
Miguel grinned, used to his better’s displays of temper. “Then you will be very pleased with what I have learned.”
And he proceeded to inform him of the perfect sabor: Phillip Small, a Lupescu who was strong and very well-made.
De Vivar stroked the curve of his mustache. “Excellent. Very excellent work, Miguel. As a reward, seek out a normal and enjoy yourself.”
Miguel kissed his hand and hurried out. De Vivar forgot about him as soon as he was gone.
This was more than excellent. By feeding the sabor judicious amounts of his own blood, de Vivar would see Phillip Small lived five hundred years at the least, more than enough time for de Vivar’s plans to come to fruition! He would breed up an army of vampyrs who would help him overthrow Mondragon!
WHY DID nothing go easily?
De Vivar had had his eye on Phillip Small and was about to put his plan into effect, only to learn the hijo de puta was no longer virgin.
Could no one retain their virginity any longer?
Having his plans foiled once again, he’d punished the one-time sabor, and then left him, uncaring of how he fared afterward.
But now things were falling into place even more perfectly: the sabor he would have was both Dragomir and Lupescu!
Before long he would father a fine son—many fine sons. He might not have been born a vampyr, but that act would show the elitists his mettle. It would enable him to become the rege, and he would have all the sabors he desired.
Perhaps he would share the lesser ones with his subjects.
And there would be no restriction on how many normals they could drain. After all, with the world population veritably immeasurable, it would be long centuries before it became anywhere near depleted.
Now he stared at Antonia, his lips curled in a sneer. He’d grown bored with her, but she still had her uses. “I wish to feed!” he repeated.
She had the temerity to roll her eyes at him. Of all the vampyrs he’d turned or created, she was the only one who had no fear of him. She sauntered over to him, caught up her long hair and tugged it aside, and offered him her throat.
He palmed her plump buttocks as he drank. Soon, he promised himself. Soon it would be the sabor he fed from.
DE VIVAR gazed around at the mausoleum in the abandoned graveyard that had been his home since he’d come to these shores more than two hundred years before. It was decently decorated, but nothing in comparison to his palace in Andalucía, with its three hundred rooms, eight gardens, twelve patios, and the loggia his father had built for his mother, but times changed. This was good enough, and below were the catacombs that housed the vampyrs he’d turned.
They were out and about now, feeding on normals. When they returned, they would bring one for him.
De Vivar sneered. The rege preferred his vampyrs use blood that came in plastic bags and was warmed in a microwave. This was another reason why a new dynasty was needed.
He’d been forbidden from approaching the Small sabor, but he wasn’t about to let that hinder him. Nor was he going to let the sabor’s refusal of admittance keep him from what was rightly his. All he needed was a way to gain entry into the sabor’s house.
Antonia came strolling into the mausoleum after a night out feeding. No decent woman would take a man’s member into her mouth, but she was a whore, and she’d done that before he’d created her. He smiled. He enjoyed making the distinction between creating or turning a vampyr. No other vampyr had ever done that.
“I have a task for you.”
“¿Sí?” It sounded like the hissing of a snake, and his smile changed to a frown. When had this started?
She raised an eyebrow, and he shunted that aside as immaterial. He had something for her to do, something she would be perfect for.
For one thing she couldn’t drink from her prey, not in the usual way, which would leave all that lovely, potent blood for him. And for another, what man would refuse to be fellated, especially one as young as this sabor?
“You will go to the home of Tyrell Small and gain entry. Once you do this, I will come and you will invite me in.”
“Very well, maestro.”
Again with the hissing! What should have been a term of respect came across as almost mocking. Damned woman! He gave her a sharp glare, and she lowered her lashes and curtseyed.
“Have I your permission to leave?”
“Yes, yes. Go! And be quick about it!”
She vanished, and he began to pace the length of his mausoleum. Soon, now. His mouth began to water and his fangs to elongate. He flung himself down on the sofa and began to envision how things would be once the sabor was his and he became rege.
FAILURE! HE stared at the whore in disgruntlement. “How can this be? The sabor is little more than a youth, and you… you have centuries of experience!”
“I don’t understand myself, maestro. He is, as you say, merely a boy. As for me, I’m but a simple peasant woman.”
“You’re a less than useless whore! Begone!” He strode across the room, coming to a standstill before the portrait Juan de Borgoña had done of him shortly before Terese Mondragon had turned him.
Dios mio, but he’d been a handsome man!
Of course, since he’d been turned, he hadn’t been able to admire his reflection in a mirror, but he had no doubt he was as handsome as ever. He steadfastly refused to look at his hands.
The slight difference in the air let him know he was once again alone, that the whore had obeyed him.
Now he needed to give this situation some thought. The whore hadn’t been successful. Perhaps the Madonna?
¡Miguel! One of the first abilities he’d discovered after he’d been turned was how to use his mind to summon his beings.
“I am here, maestro.” Miguel had been the first of his guardaespaldas, his bodyguards that he’d turned.
“Bring Graciana to me! And find a nun’s habit!”
“Sí.”
Graciana would be perfect. She had been an actress, and her greatest role had been as Mary Magdalene. She also had a silver tongue.
De Vivar had no doubt she would persuade the sabor to allow her entry into his home.
“MAESTRO, GRACIANA has returned.”
“Splendid, splendid! Bring the sabor to me! I wish to taste him before you take him to his cell.”
“Perdón, she is alone.”
“¿Qué?”
Miguel shifted from one foot to the other.
“¡Dios mio! Now what?”
“Maestro, the sabor is not with her.”
“Can no one follow a simple order?” Infuriated, de Vivar swept his arm along the mantel, knocking the urn with Sor Belicia’s ashes across the room.
He gnashed his teeth and clenched his fingers into fists, uncaring his fingernails would gouge crescent-shaped marks on his palm. Miguel stood there stoically, saying nothing, and de Vivar glowered at him.
“Clean that mess! And put the ashes back into the urn.”
HE MULLED over the problem for some time, and then it occurred to him—the sabor had fallen into Adam Dasani’s hands like a ripe plum; he was probably one of those who secretly lusted after men. Few sabors were like that, it was more prevalent in normals.
¡Miguel!
“¿Sí?”
“Fetch me Áedán Mac Lochlainn.” De Vivar had crossed paths with the younger vampyr a few centuries ago. He hadn’t turned him, but Mac Lochlainn, being Irish, had been dissatisfied with the way things were run and had willingly joined him.
And while he preferred feeding from women, he would do whatever de Vivar ordered him to do.
“M’lord sent for me?”
Ah, now here was the respect due him! “Yes. You will go to the home of the sabor Tyrell Small and ensorcell him.”
“As ye wish, m’lord.”
Yes, that was how it should be! Feeling magnanimous, he said, “As a reward for obeying me, you may sip from the sabor.”
“Aye, m’lord.” Mac Lochlainn dropped to a kn
ee, caught de Vivar’s hand, and brought it to his lips.
He ran his hand over Mac Lochlainn’s hair. “Now, go.”
When Mac Lochlainn returned, it would be with word the sabor would invite him into his home. And once de Vivar had fed from him, he would bring him here, keeping the sabor for himself.
There were some hours until dawn. ¡Miguel!
“¿Sí, maestro?”
“The sabor will be coming to reside here. Find a cell suitable for him and have it prepared!”
Miguel bowed and hurried to obey him.
Yes. This was how it would be when he became rege.
“WHAT DO you mean he wouldn’t let you in?” de Vivar thundered.
Mac Lochlainn licked his lips nervously. “It’s as I said, m’lord. He opened the door, but he wouldn’t invite me in. And… and that beast of his….” He shuddered.
“That beast is the size of my hand! I could twist its head from its body with no effort at all! What did you say?” It had sounded like “Then you have my leave to try.”
“Nothing, I assure you, m’lord.”
“Why am I surrounded by fools?” De Vivar howled with frustration. “Get out of my sight before I destroy your talisman!”
Mac Lochlainn vanished, and De Vivar flung himself onto the sofa, drumming his fingertips restlessly on the elegantly crafted arm. He needed to give this more thought.
IT WAS a week later when it came to him. ¡Por supuesto! The sabor had been raised without his mother!
Yes, that might very well be the thing. De Vivar would send a vampyr who exuded a warm, motherly appearance…. Corazón would be excellent.
And meanwhile, he was hungry. “Miguel, is the normal ready?”
“Sí, maestro.”
He grinned. A normal always tasted better when seasoned with terror. “Then let us proceed.”
HE CROSSED the floor repeatedly, gnashing his teeth and swearing. Why had his plan failed? It was exceedingly clever, if he said so himself! Everything should have fallen into place by now!
The whore hadn’t worked. Neither had the nun, and as for the male vampyr, no matter how handsome—de Vivar must have read that situation with Dasani wrong. This last had been too motherly. It had probably struck the sabor as incestuous.
Hmm. He tugged on his lower lip, and once again a brilliant notion struck him. What would a young man want, but a young woman!
Yes! He had the perfect solution.
“Rhiannon!”
CHAPTER SEVEN:
COME WHAT MAY
IT WAS the day from hell.
I’d overslept thanks to torrid dreams of Adam, who I hadn’t seen since just after Christmas. As a result, I’d had to skip breakfast, barely having time to feed and walk Mina; the jacket I’d grabbed on the run wasn’t warm enough—the calendar might say April, but it felt like January—and I’d forgotten my lunch.
On top of that, my digital recorder needed to be recharged, and my notes looked like chicken scratches. I squinted down at them, hoping I’d be able to decipher them once I returned home.
And now Dr. von Bulwer was turning his beady black eyes on me and frowning. “What is your problem, Mr. Small?”
I only just stopped myself from looking around for my dad. “I’m sorry, Doctor?”
“Come, come. You’ve been fidgeting throughout the entire class. Do you have ants in your pants?”
There were a few snickers, mostly relieved because I was the target of our instructor’s displeasure. He’d picked on the others, but this was the first time he’d directed his impatience toward me.
“Well?”
He really expected me to give him an excuse? “It’s spring?” I offered hesitantly.
His brows snapped together above his nose. “Thank you for stating the obvious.”
My face felt as if it were on fire. I could hardly tell him it was way past the time when I needed to feed a vampyr. The result was not only was I fidgety, as Dr. von Bulwer had been so kind as to point out, but my skin felt as if it was too tight for my body. I went through the days half-hard and aching, but for Adam; I had no desire for any other vampyr.
And I’d turned away every one that had come to my door. A man and three women had shown up in a six-week period, and I hadn’t needed Mina’s reaction to refuse them permission to enter my home. Something felt off about them. Their eyes had looked weird and the tips of their fangs had stood out against the blood red of their lips.
I expected to hear from the rege anytime now, telling me to get my act together and do my job.
The thing was, I wanted Adam—Adam’s fingers stroking over my skin, Adam’s tongue teasing my throat, Adam’s fangs sinking into me.
Not that it looked like I was going to get him….
“I believe it would be well for you to absent yourself for the day.”
“Excuse me?”
Dr. von Bulwer studied me for a moment, then turned back to the podium and leafed through the pages there. “You have the homework assignment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, then. Good afternoon, Mr. Small.”
I stuffed the useless recorder into my messenger bag along with the notebook, put on my jacket, and went out to the parking lot.
I shivered as the cold cut through my jacket, and I fumbled with the remote to unlock my car. What I needed was to… to drown my sorrows. Yeah, that was what I needed to do. Dad was a big proponent of that. He always said when things looked their darkest, ice cream was the surest cure. And I needed more than plain chocolate.
I’d drive to the mall. There was a Ben & Jerry’s just off the food court. I’d buy a couple of pints of ice cream—Chunky Monkey, I thought, and Cherry Garcia.
And I knew Mina would greet me with little yips and bounces. At least someone would be happy to see me.
And maybe tonight Adam—I sighed. A vampyr would come to visit me.
I WAS about a quarter of a mile away from home when I began to hear the barking—deep, thunderous—I had the window rolled up, the heater blasting, and classic rock pouring out of the speakers, and I still heard it.
Had someone who lived along this part of the road bought a Neapolitan mastiff?
The closer I got to home, the more full-throated the sound became, and I grew uneasy. There were no other houses that near, but….
Just then I spotted the minivan parked at the curb in front of my house.
I never had visitors. Who was this?
I parked, got out of the car, and stumbled to a halt. The barking was coming from my house?
Before I could wonder about that, I recognized the figure that got out of the van and sauntered down the sidewalk to me.
“Jimmy!” I jogged over to greet him. “When did you get here?”
“About ten minutes ago. Dude, I have to tell you: it fucking sucks to be your friend!” He looked me up and down.
I jerked to a standstill. “What?”
“I can’t even hug you!”
“Since when has that mattered to you?”
“Ty, if anyone could use a hug, it’s you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at your place!”
I turned around and studied at my home. “Yeah?” It looked fine to me.
“Small, are you nuts? It’s almost Easter, and you haven’t got a single egg or bunny or chickie on your lawn!”
“Uh… yeah. I guess I don’t.”
“Your dad would be so ashamed! He’s had all the decorations up for the past two weeks!”
That was another thing Dad was a big proponent of: decorating the house and yard for each holiday.
“I… I’ve been busy with classes,” I offered weakly. I couldn’t tell my best friend I’d had little desire to do anything beyond feed a vampyr. Well, one vampyr in particular. “I just haven’t had the time—”
“Bullshit. You still aren’t over that guy, are you?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but his look told me he wasn’t going
to buy anything I said just then. And I supposed he had a point. If it was almost the middle of April and I didn’t have a single Easter decoration up….
“It’s a good thing I’m here….”
“Speaking of here, how’d you find my place this time?” He’d gotten good and lost back in the fall.
“It was a snap!” He snapped his fingers. “I don’t know why I had such a hard time the last time. I just followed the directions the guy gave me, and here I am.”
“Guy? What guy?”
“Dunno. I was topping off the van’s gas tank at the 7-Eleven on Meridian last night, and he came over and started talking to me. Now, come on, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“The nearest nursery! Get with the program, Small!” he said impatiently, then spoiled his scowl by grinning. “Just know I expect to be paid in pizza for this, buddy.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jimmy.” I couldn’t help smiling. He had raised my spirits just by being here.
“And we’d better take the van. Much as I’d love to ride in those fine wheels of yours, it will never hold everything we need.”
“I’m surprised you’re driving your mom’s van.”
“Had no choice, my man.”
“Did you wreck your Buick?” Jimmy always tended to have a lead foot.
“No, but it’s in the shop again. I got a flat, and when I went to change the tire, I found the spare was flat as well. Dad had to call a tow company, and he was pissed. But you know something? I’m always careful about getting the spare fixed.” He shook his head.
“Yeah, you are. What distracted you this time?”
“I don’t know. Unless it was when Sheila and I broke up.” He looked sad for a minute, and I wondered how much of the breakup had been his decision.
“Well, give me about ten minutes, and we can go. I’ll put the car away and get a warmer jacket first, and then I have to walk my dog.”