by SL Figuhr
“How does it still exist?” He shook his head, glanced around again. “Trust a damn vamp to build something remote which doesn’t need modern conveniences. Some fucking torches would have at least been nice! A candle even,” he shouted into the silence, wondering if she was awake and could hear him.
The light from the nearby window didn’t penetrate much past his feet. Eron started down the hall, one hand trailing on the stone wall to guide him. Eron passed many crumbling doors, many of them shut; but when he tried to open one, it fell inward with a crash. He saw it had completely rusted off its hinges. The room was gloomy inside, but again light streamed in brokenly, letting him know shuttered windows were rusting. He didn’t want to go inside, and risk tripping over debris, as his nose twitched at mold, mildew, and rot. Soon Eron came to stairs; while there was small windows to provide light; it wasn’t enough so he worked on getting the first torch lit. Once that was done, he gathered up the extras and descended the stairs gingerly, ignoring landings and hallways branching off until he came to the bottom and found another hallway. He didn’t know how long he wandered, as he had only been here twice and his memory of the layout was a little faulty. Everything in the castle was Pre-Cataclysm, and slowly breaking down into dust, dirt, and other detritus. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since sometime late yesterday. He kept inspecting, his mouth very dry, and he swallowed constantly.
“Screw this, why bring me here if there’s nothing to eat or drink?” Eron muttered to himself. He couldn’t even find a damn wine cellar, and he knew she had one.
“This is bullshit! Dump me at the top, leave me without food or wine! You bitch! Fine, I’ll just, just,” he didn’t know what he was going to do. He picked another door at random off the hallway he was in. He found a banquet hall.
“What the hell? This furniture looks new. The place looks like it was cleaned up.”
A layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. There was a wealth of candle stands and candles which he went about lighting. The chairs had faded cushions. The windows had frames, glass in them now spotted, with heavy drapes and filmy curtains open. There was a balcony, what looked like... “Yes! Finally!” Eron strode over, saw bottles in a small rack. It was hard to tell what was inside.
“Let’s see what you are.” He had to use one of his daggers to pry the melted wax off, then dig a wood cork out. The first sip he swirled. “Would be better with food. Maybe with some liquid I can find the larders.” He took another swallow and then picked up a branch of candles and some of the bottles and moved with more confidence. “Although why the hell wouldn’t you just dump the food here? Damn vamp.”
He never found the way to the larders, but Eron did stumble upon what he knew at one time had been a spectacular library. It too bore testimony to having been recently cleaned and refurbished. He was drunk: whatever was in the bottles was potent, doubly so on an empty stomach. The remaining bottle thumped down on a table being used as a desk, also new. Yet everything had a layer of dust and cobwebs over it. He got the candles lit and used them to start a fire in the fireplace. He poked around in the desk, piled with a variety of writing material, and saw what looked like a list but whoever had wrote it used their own code. The immortal realized it was all in a man’s hand.
“Phillip.” The name came back to him with startling clarity. He had yet to see the male vamp who had been with them the night they had been cursed.
Where was he? “I hope if you’re about, you’re in your right mind, ‘cause I’m not in the mood to flee from an enraged vamp.” Eron sank with a sigh into a surprisingly well-upholstered leather chair before the fire, now roaring, and proceeded to finish off the last bottle.
“OK. Some hospitality, some good wine. Damn you, Lira, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping the day away,” Eron continued to mutter to himself, dropping off into sleep.
* * *
The fire flared and crackled in the gold-veined marble fireplace. The lights had been turned down low, so the stacks looked to be in darkness. Painted literary scenes encircled the perimeter of the room, above the tops of the bookcases. Tasteful spotlights shone down from the ceiling onto the artwork. The room’s two massive, many-paned windows stood open to the gentle night breeze. There were many comfortable reading nooks scattered about the room, lost to the general gloom. The high ceiling and the upper stacks blended into the darkness.
There was a plush deep-pile rug in front of the fireplace, along with two cushiony leather sofas, and a pair of chairs.
Eron lay on his back in front of the fire, a bucket of ice with two wine bottles chilling in it, one opened. An exquisite cut leaded wine glass, half-full, sat on the low table to his right.
He gave a sigh, his eyes closed. An observer would be able to see the lines of fatigue and misery drawn on his face. The woman paused in the shadows before padding over and gracefully crouching down at his side.
“You’re blocking the light, and the warmth,” Eron said without opening his eyes. “Even in death you try to suck the life out.”
“There’s no need to be ugly,” she replied, but switched to his other side and lay down beside him. “Now you can have the light and life all to yourself.”
“Is there something you wanted?” he asked in dull tones.
It hurt her to see him in such obvious pain. “No, I only came to see if there was anything you wanted or needed.”
He didn’t reply, then: “A woman who will love me for me. Who won’t recoil in horror and disgust when she learns what I am. One who won’t care I stay the same as she ages, withers, dies.”
The woman smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “If I knew where such people existed, I would request one for myself.”
He paused, in a slightly lighter tone, said, “I didn’t know you wanted a wife. I thought you looked for a husband.”
“Men are like candy, women are dandy,” she joked.
He gave a weak smile. “Of course. It must be easier if you’re bisexual before the turn isn’t it? More opportunities to feed.”
“There are very few of us who started out bi or same-sex oriented. Those who never learn the necessity of feeding off their same sex have a tough time without leaving tracks.”
“Dear Illyria, practical as ever. Equally adept at evading the subject.”
“I am merely stating the truth,” she replied. “I do wish you would tell me how I can help you. Would it be better if I left and let you alone?”
Illyria knew he had come here to heal. He had found a woman to love him, and she learned from Mica, her friend, he thought she was the one.They had started to plan a life together. He had told her his secret, she accepted him, they married. Life was great, rainbows and unicorns until one day he found her in bed with another man. A man older than she. Mica had gone on to say Eron was devastated. His wife had begun to resent him after all, as she aged and he remained the same.
It was possible they might have been able to divorce with a minimum of acrimony, but one of Eron’s enemies had told Eron’s wife that she too could have been immortal, forever young, but Eron selfishly wouldn’t turn her.
Mica had said Eron still wouldn’t talk about it to this day, nearly ten years later. He had been there when the woman accused Eron of keeping immortality from her. She was bitter, vengeful, and tried to drag Mica into the spat. Her final revenge had been to empty their savings account and have extensive plastic surgery in an effort to make herself younger.
It was during one of the surgeries that she died on the table from complications. It was later found out no legitimate doctor would operate on her anymore, so she had gone to one with a shady reputation, and paid the price for her vanity with her life.
Personally, Illyria thought Eron worth better than a woman so petty, selfish, and narcissistic but wisely kept such opinions to herself.
They lay in companionable silence, until he said, “You never did answer my question.”
She turned on one side to face him, propping
herself up on one arm. “I did not realize you asked one,” she replied, disgruntled. “I don’t need a baby-sitter. Why don’t you go and play with one of your men?”
“Because they all found someone they want to live with...” She almost added and grow old with but stopped. He said it for her.
“So we’re both freaks and outcasts, forever single.” He was very bitter. “Oh wait, people nowadays are obsessed with vampires. You at least could announce to the world what you are and they would line up to offer you their necks and be your slaves for life just for the chance they would be the one you’d pick to make immortal.”
Oh yes, he was very, very bitter. “They wouldn’t believe me, I’d be just another human sharing in a mass delusion.” She sat up and curled feet under in preparation to leaving. “Besides, you know as well as I do sheep are not candidates for immortality.” Now they were both bitter.
She knew better than to think any of the men and women she loved would be special enough or able to handle the long, dark nights to stay with her forever.
His arm moved, hand clamping on her wrist, “Don’t. Please. For once, let’s just be two people lying here in misery.”
“Such a tempting offer,” Illyria replied drily but lay back down. They stayed, each drifting in thoughts of all the people they had known and loved.
* * *
The sound of drapes opening rattled in the room, and pale moonlight filtered in. There was the sense of movement about the room, though no other sound was heard. I was in a foul mood, and Eron lay passed out if the empty bottles surrounding him were any indication.
“Damn you, Phillip! How dare you leave me!” I had a sinking suspicion that the advisor had ordered him killed, after learning Lord Nicky’s slave was a demon, and the memories from the old woman who once haunted the Fishton Mansion. So did the boy know what we were?
It looked like Phillip had been trying to figure out what the advisor was. I thought back to what Mia and the demon let slip. I had a suspicion my mate had entered a whole new dimension of hell. I didn’t know if the demon tried to break the curse and failed, and Phillip wandered with wits addled as it slowly lost its potency. How would I even begin to look for him if he was in such a state, assuming damn peasants hadn’t killed him? I wanted to cry at the loss, rage and smash things; but I had already done so to no avail. I had to do something else to get over my grief. I had more problems piling up, more questions. How to find out for sure? I didn’t know how to achieve my goal without resorting to bargains I didn’t want to make; so I paced and I thought, turning over possibilities.
* * *
The listener floated up out of his drunken stupor, he could hear a soft, scratching noise. What the hell? It doesn’t sound like rats. Cautiously he peeked around the arm of the chair he lay in; the library was in darkness except for the streams of moonlight coming through a large window. He became aware of Illyria flitting in and out of shadows. There was something about the sight which tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t bring it to the front of his mind. Eron was horrified as he watched her blur in and out of darkness. I’ve never seen when she wasn’t trying to at least act human. She’s pure vamp.He sat bolt upright in blind panic yelling, “Fuck!”
He found himself staring into a pair of silent yellow-green luminous eyes. He felt a mix of amusement and menace coming from her. His eyes darted frantically between the woman and where he thought the door was, noting the utter stillness. He wouldn’t know she was in the room if he wasn’t looking directly at her. Cautiously he felt for his sword and slowly slid off the chair.
“Uh, uh, bad dream?” Eron offered lamely. He took a shaky breath in. She could have been a statue, there was no sense of life about her. “Simon says, talk to me?” Eron tried for humor, but trailed off as she stalked forward with a panther’s grace.
Every hair on his body rose as if electrified, and the primal lizard hindbrain shrieked Flee! Predator! Eron automatically backed up and drew his sword before he stilled himself in a fighting stance. She knows me, assuming she remembers or cares.
* * *
I didn’t feel like myself anymore, or perhaps this was how I had always been and didn’t realize until lately? Mayhap the mere fact of the demon being in our realm caused things to happen which otherwise wouldn’t. Whatever the demon had done to get his mark on my wrist permanently was causing bad side effects.
I saw Eron blink as I appeared in front of him. He was tensing up, ready to defend himself when a crackle broke out behind. Eron jumped a foot in terror and half turned before remembering the threat in front of him. He looked back to see me a hands-breadth from his sword point.
“Um...please don’t go all Spike on me, or was that Angelus?” His eyes roamed to my face, which should have been cut and bruised and swollen from the demon’s attack. Then down to my hands, curled into claws, and back up my body.
All he saw was tight black leather: lots of it. Mmmmm, leather, his mind channeled an old Simpson cartoon. No! Bad man! Bad Eron! Potential Evil waiting to kill you. But leather, make me feel cheap. Damn it! Focus! Eron dragged his eyes up from my perfectly revealed cleavage to see anger sparking in my eyes.
Eron sucked in air, his mind a welter. How the hell to get out?
His fear was a delicious scent perfuming the air; before I could stop it, an animal growl trickled out between my lips. I watched emotions chase themselves across the man’s face: lust, longing, and fear before the brain he was born with kicked in and he blurted out, “Would it kill you to have some damn food in this place if you’re going to kidnap someone?”
I cocked a brow, knowing it made me look even more dangerous and sexy as I flowed forward, stopping with the point of the sword touching the skin over my heart and tilted my head, like a bird of prey looking at its victim. He was sending out mixed signals, fear and lust, and it was driving me crazy. I could feel the thirst start its slow rise.
“I knew this was going to be the mother of all fuck-ups. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I bet it’s hard to pronounce. Now, get me some damn food. I’m hungry and I’ll sit and answer questions all damn night long if I have food.” His being switched to fight mode helped clear my head.
“You’ll answer them, no matter what,” I let my voice go from mellow whiskey to smooth silk.
“Don’t bet on it, fang face.”
I slinked in a circle around him. Eron tried to maneuver to keep me in sight. “Come on, Lira, I know you’re in there somewhere, so cut the scary vampire crap. We’ve been there, done that, blah, blah. We have big problems, and you doing this is not going to help solve them.”
I stood staring, as his words sunk into my brain, and attempted to shake off whatever was gripping me. I barely succeeded. “Fine, come.” I started for the banquet hall. After a moment I heard his footsteps following me.
Chapter Ten
I let him eat, and gazed out over the mist-shrouded mountains with my arms clasped behind my back. The night was sprinkled with stars, silvered by moonlight. Behind me, Eron gulped down more drink. At the rate he was going, he would be drunk again.
I turned my head to look at him, and he said, “I’m getting sick of your bullshit, have I mentioned that? You play games. You’re playing them now. You still won’t tell me what you want, and you have clandestine late-night meetings with the head of an army.”
My smile was cold as his. I stalked closer, leaned over so our faces were close. “I told you, the note I was given said I would learn of interesting things if I showed up. I suppose my interlude with the boy’s slave was a figment of all our imaginations?”
“I...” He trailed off, considered, conceded the point. “Very well. Perhaps you wish to tell me what he really is? And why you have an army hidden?”
“Secondly, that is not my army and firstly: A demon.”
“A...Demon? Okay.” He drew the word out, thought about it. “I suppose that would explain a lot.” He drummed his fingers on the table top in thought, leaned for
ward. “Whose army is it?”
“The boy’s,” I replied.
He sat back, eyes narrowed. “And this doesn’t concern you in the least little bit? Mica’s still missing, probably still cursed. The only good to come out of it is that the boy showed up. Bastard, I can’t believe he trampled me twice! As if once wasn’t enough!”
“Of course his having an army concerns me! Tell me, which way did you enter the town?”
“Huh? Why the hell would that matter?”
“Just answer the question, please; it was something one of the nobles mentioned at a dinner.”
He barely kept from rolling his eyes. “Over the mountains and through the woods, from...” he took a moment to orient himself and pointed, “that way.”
“And did you see any army men? Forts? Scouts? Anyone who looked to be patrolling the borders?”
Eron’s mouth formed an O. “I’m, I’m having a bit of trouble.”
My tone was impatient, did he ride the short bus? “Did you see any signs which indicated the town had an army?”
Eron remained stunned, mouth hanging open. I was irritated: if I had wanted an imitation of a fish, I would have asked for one. He seemed awed, or perhaps it was disbelief? “Well?” I demanded.