by Alicia Ryan
“You won the gratitude of a king.”
“But does that make me a good man?” Darren asked. “Tell me, Phillip Branham, what’s your opinion of me?”
Phillip took a long time considering the question. “I say with all honesty that I can’t imagine what I would have done in your situation—what any man might do. So I don’t feel I can condemn you for actions of your past, especially ones for which you continue to atone.”
“And Cranston?” Darren asked. “That’s hardly in the past.”
Phillip gave a wan smile. “In that, I’m afraid we share the same weakness. I’ve never felt true hate before. My father deserved it, but I could never manage it. Cranston, on the other hand, inspires emotions in me I’d rather not examine. To say I’d not shed a tear if he never took another breath is an understatement. I’m glad you didn’t kill him—but for your sake, not his.”
“At least we agree on some things.”
“We agree on the most important thing.”
“Roxanna.”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll understand why, though it kills me, I have to ask you this.”
Phillip waited.
“Please don’t take her from me.”
“What?” Phillip felt the room spin.
“It’s like I said. You’re everything she deserves, but...I don’t think I could bear going back to the existence I had without her. It was nothingness.”
“Do you honestly think I would do that? That I could do that? What happened to the man who so recently explained to me how she needs us both? She’d find me a poor substitute in your absence, I assure you. Assuming she ever forgave me, which I highly doubt.”
“Likewise, I’m afraid.” He looked at Phillip with an amused smile. “I half toyed with the idea of killing you but decided I’d have to make her a vampire if I did it. It would take an eternity for her to forgive me.”
Phillip paused. “So, to clarify—you’re fully on the side of not killing me now?”
Darren laughed. “Yes, damn it all. As much as I hate to admit it, she was right about you. You do kind of grow on a person. And you don’t trigger the territorial instinct.”
“Territorial instinct?” Phillip asked, trying to keep his voice from rising.
Darren nodded. “Yes. It’s part of the package, but you’ve slipped under it somehow. Perhaps because I’ve already trusted you with her—entrusted her to your care.”
“You can trust me, you know.”
“I do know. And that means something to me. You both –”
“Well, if that’s settled,” Phillip said, interrupting and getting to his feet, “I think we’re settled.”
“So...” Darren hesitated. “Tonight?”
Phillip paired his grin with a deep exhale. “Absolutely.”
***
They again passed the carriage ride to Darren’s largely in silence, but this time, it was charged with electricity instead of nerves and fears.
Nevertheless, once inside, they ascended the stairs slowly, and Darren sank onto the bed when they reached his room as if his strength were sapped.
“I’m just going to go freshen up,” Roxanna said, gesturing across the hall and scuttling out the door to puzzle in private over why the atmosphere between them seemed to so suddenly have shifted.
When it was just the two of them, Darren spoke. “She loves you, Phillip. I’m not certain if she knows it herself, but she does.”
“She was going to leave,” Phillip replied. “She didn’t want me to tell you, but I think you should know.”
“What do you mean ‘leave’?”
“The night you returned to the club—she had decided to ask you to send her back. That doesn’t sound like love to me.”
Only Phillip’s breath was audible in the room when Roxanna returned, and two pairs of accusing eyes looked at her.
“Uh, oh,” she said. “What have I done?”
“He says you were going to leave,” Darren told her.
She shot Phillip a glare. “Alright, I was. I had a lot of time to think while I was waiting for you.”
“And you came to the decision to leave me...us?” he asked.
She looked between them. “Isn’t it plain how much I want to be with you—both of you? But I can’t live in 1815. You know that. It’s like living in chains. I’d always be pretending to be something I’m not. I can’t live here—really live.” She looked between them. “None of us can.”
“Come here,” Darren beckoned. His look had softened, and he stroked her hair as she knelt down on the floor beside the bed. “I had no idea what I was doing when I brought you here. I gave no thought to where it might lead—only that I had to have you. Wherever you want to go, I will go, if I have to move heaven and earth to make it happen.”
Roxanna closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Then she rose to sit on the bed, and Darren slid over to make room for her and bring her mouth to his.
When he lifted his head, he looked over her, back at Phillip.
“Did you mean it?” Phillip asked him. “What you said before. It’s true?”
“On my honor.”
She heard Phillip move and looked up when he came to stand beside her. Pulling her up, he kissed her like he’d been away at sea, all heat and desperation, and she encircled him with her arms and as much of her body as she could manage.
Then his hands were on the expanse of her back left uncovered by the dress, stroking, needing, stoking the fire in her. But he didn’t linger, quickly sliding his hands up to pull the dress down. It didn’t take much—one yank and the fabric lay at her feet, and she was naked in front of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, studying her, his voice thick.
She shook her head. “Not as beautiful as you—either of you. I’m a lucky girl.”
“You’re about to get luckier,” he replied, a dirty, playful gleam in his eye.
She laughed. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like Hartley.”
He led her around the bed, positioning her on the other side of Darren, who just leaned against the headboard, watching.
He bent and took each breast in turn, licking, teasing, sucking at her flesh.
“Phillip...” she pleaded.
“No longer thinking of Hartley?” he asked archly.
“No,” she whimpered. “No one else.”
He moved lower and began to kiss her scars, moving upward from her knee. And it didn’t alarm her. It was no longer Darren’s territory. It was hers to give, and his to take. And when he pushed fingers and tongue between her legs, she cried out for more of him, and he soon enough obliged, showing her he was just as eager as she was to be joined once more.
But he seemed intent on torturing her, on hearing her moan and plead with him—harder, more. When he finally gave her what she wanted, release caught her by surprise, it came so quickly. And she knew she cried out for him, and then he was whispering to her once more that he loved her. She closed her eyes and thrust her body up to take in all of this wonderful man, and he gave her all he had to give.
Neither of them moved for a while, and they were all silent except for Phillip’s heavy breathing, and Roxanna’s occasional moan when he moved within her. They both moaned when he pulled away to lie by her side.
Roxanna looked at Darren and saw the hunger and desire in his face. Smiling languidly, she got up and moved to straddle him. He ran his hands over her thighs and then gripped them tight.
She leaned forward, but he shook his head and pulled her arm to his mouth, raking his fangs slowly across the sensitive skin of her wrist. She swallowed and shivered...and waited.
When it came, the pain seared into her, up from her arm into her mind, into everything that made her who she was. Darren’s brand, she thought dimly. Marking her as his as sure as anything could.
She recovered herself long before Darren stopped drinking, and when he did, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, murmuring “Oh, God”s
and her name and other things she couldn’t make out, but it all sounded nice...very nice. She liked her vampire happy.
Utterly drained...literally...and sated, Roxanna rolled over and stretched out down the middle of the bed, not caring that she wasn’t under the covers.
She spared a sleepy look at Phillip.
“I know it means something is wrong with me,” he said, “but that was...rather exciting to watch.”
“Welcome to the ‘Something is Wrong with Me’ club,” she replied. “We’re happy to have you as the newest member.”
She heard both men laugh and then rolled over and shut them out in favor of some blessed rest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When, by the middle of her performance the next night, Darren hadn’t appeared, Roxanna began to worry. When three-quarters of the night had gone by, she was done with worrying.
She gave Phillip a nod, and they stopped for a break.
“You’re really worried about him?” he asked after she’d told him of her concern.
“Do you honestly think he wouldn’t be here? Tonight?”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t be missing it if I were him. I wouldn’t be leaving you alone for a second more than I had to.”
“I want to go over there,” she said. “I think something’s wrong.”
Phillip nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll grab my cloak.”
She was halfway back to the door of her room with Phillip just ahead of her when she saw him look up over her shoulder and give a loud gasp.
She turned to see a semi-transparent shape standing several feet behind her.
“Hello, Andrew,” she said.
“This is...the soul?” Phillip asked.
“Ah,” Andrew responded. “I see you’ve heard of me. Good. That will save time. Suffice to say I’m here on Darren’s behalf. Pietro is back and determined to find out all about Darren’s ‘new toy’, as he put it. At first, it was just raised voices, but it’s gone much further than that now. Darren can’t physically harm Pietro, but it doesn’t work the other way round. Pietro’s begun drinking from him. If he keeps it up, eventually he’ll know all about you.” He looked at Roxanna and then over at Phillip. “You may be in great jeopardy.”
“What can we do?” Phillip asked.
“I’ve come to send her back,” he announced.
Roxanna heard Phillip suck in a breath.
“I think we should discuss this somewhere other than the hallway,” he said, moving into her bedroom. She followed, as did Andrew.
“There’s not much time,” he said to her. “I’ll try to get you back exactly where I took you from. That should be easiest all around.”
“And this will save Darren?” she asked.
“I don’t know if Pietro would kill him,” Andrew said. “He might very well do. He’s absolutely no compunction about anything, but he enjoys torture as much as killing. If we send you back, both you and Darren will be safe.”
Roxanna nodded. “If that’s what it takes.” Then she looked at Phillip. “Won’t he also be in danger?”
Andrew was silent for a time but then admitted the truth. “I can only send one of you. I’m not strong enough to send you both.”
“So you want me to just leave them here?” she asked, feeling tears and uncertainties crowd behind her eyes.
“I can see no alternative,” Andrew replied.
Roxanna put her head in her hand to think, and only one alternative presented itself. “Can we kill him?” she asked.
“Pietro?” Andrew asked on a high note. “I know of no way to kill a vampire.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” she retorted. “I don’t want to run. Monster or not.”
“Darren will be unable to help. I don’t know how it could be done with just the three of us.”
She looked from Phillip to Andrew and back again, wondering at the colossal risk she might be taking. “I might have a few thoughts on that,” she said finally. Granted, all her thoughts would be based on re-runs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but how far off could they be? Oh, God.
On the heels of her silent prayer, she turned again to Phillip. “This will require your help.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“And we might both die trying.”
“But Darren might die if we don’t. We have to try.”
“Darren will hold out as long as he can,” Andrew said, “but Pietro has never been one for mercy. As soon as he finds out what he wants to know, your days are likely numbered anyway. Even yours,” he said, nodding at Phillip.
“You’re all good news today, aren’t you?” Roxanna complained.
“Can you help or not?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she said. “I can be the distraction. If I’m the reason he’s here, it should work. You can bring me to him, and we’ll have to hope we’re not too late.”
“And then what?”
“Well, we need a sword or an axe—something like that—and a wooden stake wouldn’t hurt.” She looked around the room, then down. “One of the legs off that little table might suffice.”
“What are you talking about?” Phillip asked her.
“Stake through the heart or take off its head—those are the two ways I’m betting you can kill a vampire.”
She looked at Andrew.
“Well, I can’t argue that cutting off his head might work. But I don’t know how you’d manage it.”
“It would help if you were solid or could do something useful,” she opined.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his regret genuine. “I’m only solid if I feed from Darren, and at the moment, he’s otherwise occupied.”
“Could you feed from Pietro?” she asked.
Andrew blinked. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”
So she filled them in on the rest of what was, admittedly, a haphazard plan.
Andrew looked between them. “I’m not sure any of this will work, but you might not be as useless as I feared.”
“Thanks,” Roxanna said drily. “Nice to see you again, too.”
Phillip stood, flipped her table over and, holding it down with his foot, ripped off one of its legs. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’re wasting time.”
***
Darren lay spread-eagle across the chaise that sat on one side of his largest sitting room. He was bleeding from multiple wounds—his neck, his wrist, his upper arm, his side—all bites designed to punish, and to draw information from him.
“You will tell me where to find her,” Pietro threatened.
Darren opened his eyes and tried to find the energy to glare at the smooth, olive-skinned face he’d hoped never to see again.
“You’ll not find her through me.” In truth, he didn’t know how long he could hold out. It was too hard keeping his thoughts hidden from the blood draw—especially from the one who’d made him. He’d already shown him her face, her scent, and the taste of her blood. And he was only getting weaker. At least Pietro didn’t know yet to look for Phillip.
But his weakness drove Pietro on. It was one of the things that drew him. That and Darren being “too happy”. He’d said it like it was a crime. And Pietro had always thought everything was his for the taking. He had in fact left London, but only for a few days. Since then he’d been lying in wait for Darren to do exactly as he had—to go back to Roxanna. And Darren had fallen for it.
When he heard the front door open and smelled the familiar scents of Roxanna and Phillip, he groaned. Please no, he thought. He couldn’t lose them like this.
Pietro laughed. “What do you know? My old friend, you might live through this, after all. It seems your little songbird has come to me.”
He turned and walked from the room. Darren heard him call out “Oh, Songbird” in his low, sing-song voice.
***
Roxanna was halfway back down the stairs from Darren’s room when a swarthy beast of a man called out to her from the foyer bel
ow. She faltered but kept running.
“Where is he?” she demanded, keeping her right hand in her pocket. For once, this society’s underestimation of women was going to work to her advantage.
“Oh, how sweet,” he said. “You’ve come to join your lover.”
“Let him go. You can have me, but let Darren go.”
She stood just a few feet in front of him, and he looked at her curiously. Then he leaned forward to sniff the air around her face. Seizing the moment, she lashed out with the knife Darren had given her, the one she’d just retrieved from his room. Their room. Deadly sharp, it sliced through inches of flesh, the wound quickly spurting a blood trail down onto Pietro’s white shirt.
“What the...?” His hand shot up. “You will pay for that, my girl. Just what did you hope to accomplish? Did you think to hurt me? Kill me, perhaps?”
“That’s kind of the plan, yeah,” she said, just as Andrew appeared. He hovered over Pietro, whose hand couldn’t fully contain the flow of blood—and that blood disappeared into nothingness.
Pietro stood looking stunned and grew a little pale, as, all the while, Andrew became more solid, but this became a disadvantage when Pietro was finally able to get a handhold and push him away.
“Fools,” he spat out, blood flecking his lips. “I’ll kill you both!”
The knowledge that it was Darren’s blood on his lips enraged her. “Not today,” she promised, her voice low and certain.
Phillip appeared in the hallway, out of Pietro’s line of sight, and threw their makeshift stake to Andrew. He’d sharpened it with her stolen kitchen knife in the carriage on the way over. She hoped it would do the job. Or maybe that only worked on tv.