Bleeding Hearts: Book One of the Demimonde

by Ash Krafton

  He sat up, crossing his arms and staring at the door, contemplative.

  I pushed myself out of the shallow dent I'd formed on the hard cushion, and leaned forward on the edge of the couch. Reaching behind me, I collected my notebook and pens and stowed them in my tote bag. "I guess it's like the way my dad lectured me when I was in high school. He didn't want me to find things out the hard way. If I'd been smarter, I'd have listened to him."

  I got off the couch and perched on the desk near him. "Don't be mad at him, Marek. You gave him a better world than you yourself knew. Rode sees nothing but possibility and security. He's brilliant and enthusiastic. He's more than ready to go out and seize every opportunity he can find because he's confident. Those are blessings, love, and you made them possible. Isn't that what you wanted?"

  He slid his chair toward me and with one arm tugged me off the desk and onto his lap. I settled against him as he accommodated my body. Burying his face in my hair, he lipped my neck, making me shiver with pleasant goose bumps.

  "Of course it is," he said. "You are right. What would I do without you, Sophie? You keep me sane." He exhaled deeply, and his breath stirred the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, tickling. "And how did you ever get to be so wise?"

  Pulling back to look at me, Marek seemed to expect a response.

  I shrugged and took the facetious way out. "It's a God-given talent. How else do you think I got my name?"

  His expression changed, as if he remembered something that should have been apparent all along. "Sophia," he whispered. "That's right. Greek for wisdom." He made an appraising sound deep in his throat. "Funny, too. Humor, beauty, compassion, wisdom... I guess opposites attract, don't they?"

  "I wouldn't say complete opposites. You're pretty, too."

  "Like I said, funny." He leaned his head back over the top of the chair. "You should spend time lecturing my brother. He would benefit from your wisdom as well. Although..." His voice held warning. "Do not sit on his lap to do it. You are already far too fond of him."

  "Relax." I laughed at his flash of jealousy. "I've told you before, I think of him as a brother. A one-hundred- and-twenty-year-old brother."

  Okay, that didn't even sound convincing. Brothers didn't take your breath away when they smiled. Rodrian was harmlessly flirtatious and I knew he'd never make a move on me, but he was beautiful and we all knew it. Especially him.

  Marek growled, oblivious to my internal dialog. "That better be all. If he ever meant to take you from me..."

  "Relax," I repeated. "No one will ever take what I don't want to give, not ever again. And speaking of giving..."

  I ran my hands across his chest once, enjoying the feel of muscle and bone beneath his shirt, before pushing myself off his lap. I stood before him and innocently wiggled my dress down into place.

  His eyes ran down me hungrily, and light glinted off his sharper teeth as his mouth opened slightly. God help me, I loved baiting this predator. What kind of person had I become?

  I silenced the thought and walked to the door. "I have something to give you."

  "Do you, now." He stood and leveled a heated glance at me. "What is it?"

  "I can't tell you. I can only show you."

  "Show me, then."

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't have it here."

  He looked puzzled, as if he had misinterpreted me after all. "Where is it?"

  I smiled and opened the door, leaning against the jamb a moment before turning to saunter out. Over my shoulder, I flashed a wicked smile at him. "At home. On the couch."

  Out in the hall, I heard him trip over the chair in his rush to follow me and I hid a grin.

  The next day I hummed my way through a longer-than-usual workday. Earlier in the morning I'd gotten a call from Marek, saying he'd meet me at The Mag at four. It was easier to enjoy work knowing something nice waited for me afterward.

  He asked how my day went as I smoothed the seat belt and suggested dinner at some quiet corner of a bistro. Before I had a chance to respond he casually dropped a large leather-bound book onto my lap.

  "What's this?" I joked. "My homework?"

  "No," he answered. "Your destiny."

  I rolled my eyes even as I tugged on the bookmark. I turned to a page he had marked with a thin velvet ribbon and pulled the book open to reveal ancient-looking text and woodcut prints. The word leapt from the page, drawing my gaze.

  Sophia.

  "Sophia," he said. "The one hope any DV has for salvation."

  I searched his face, hoping for an explanation or at least a punch line. He gazed back at me so serenely I could have wept.

  "I spent my life looking for this salvation, Sophie. I think it's you."

  I looked down at the page without comprehension and felt a wave of dizziness.

  The Sophia Oracle. Me?

  "I don't understand, Marek." My voice trembled. "What is this? This book has to be about a billion years old."

  "Sophie, where did we meet? In a museum. I told you it was personal research. This is the research. The origin of the DV. Who I am. And now, I realize who you are, too."

  "You're wrong," I said. "This is bizarre. I'm not special."

  "It's you." He touched my arm, and the sense of his power became clearer with the physical contact. He believed what he said. Every ounce of his power pulsed with insistence. "The Sophia's qualities are your qualities. Don't you recognize a part of yourself in those words?"

  I scanned the text, feeling carsick despite the fact we were still parked. Compassion, wisdom, emotional vessel, blah blah blah. "Okay," I said. "Some of it. But this says the Sophia has bright blue eyes. Mine are dark brown."

  "Please," Marek said. "Please, keep an open mind. I spent a good part of my life researching this Oracle, looking for her. I need to know. Be patient? For me?"

  His plea tugged at my heartstrings, making me answer with complete sincerity. "Marek, don't you see?" I reached for his hand. "Everything I do is for you."

  "I love you," he whispered.

  He'd never said those words before. I mentally framed the moment. Blinking back sweet tears, I gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I know."

  "You do?"

  "Sure. Wisdom here, hello."

  Marek seemed relieved. "You'll go along with me on this?"

  "Sure, if it doesn't hurt."

  "I'd never hurt you."

  "Okay, then." I looked down at the book again, thinking it might not be so bad, especially if I got a Sophia outfit. I liked the Grecian robes. And the shoes were so cute.

  We didn't say more about it as we drove to the restaurant. I'd be anything he wanted me to be because he was everything I'd ever needed. It only seemed fair.

  "I don't know if I can do this." I bit my lip. Maybe one more deep breath would help.

  Marek chortled, a deep muted sound. "Yes, you can."

  We stood in front of the main doors of the Federal Archives building downtown. Its outside was sheeted in bluish mirrored glass that reflected back traffic and building and sky. Inside was a courtroom full of DV councilors who waited to evaluate me and my Sophia-ness. Streams of busy people flowed past, paying no mind to the two of us standing in the middle of the sidewalk and talking to each other's reflections in the glass.

  Earlier Marek had announced that he'd met with members of the DV council. They were enthusiastic and wanted to meet me immediately. It didn't leave me much time to prepare.

  Prepare for what, anyway? It wasn't like I could've bought a Sophia SAT prep book and crammed. I had no idea what they expected from me.

  On the car ride over, Marek had shared information. For once. "We haven't had a Sophia here in over three centuries. There are rumors of one in Eastern Asia somewhere, and at least two in Europe. DV tend to guard them jealously."

  He glanced over at me, a grin almost tugging the corners of his mouth. Marek tended to guard me jealously so at least he acknowledged the coincidence.

  "The trouble is that
Sophias manifest where they are most needed. They can travel but they seem reluctant to do so."

  I could relate. I've lived in maybe three zip-codes my whole life. "So the only way the DV here in the States can get a Sophia is if they find a homegrown one?"

  "Yes."

  "So, today's pretty important?"

  "Pretty much," he admitted.

  Gah. More pressure please, I wasn't quite totally shattered by my nerves yet.

  Now we stood in front of the blue-mirrored building and I wished I could just stay out here on the sidewalk with my reflection. We were happy out here. "Okay, then." I straightened my shoulders and tried to look confident. "We have to do this right now before I lose my nerve."

  "You have nothing to worry about. They're just people. Why are you nervous?"

  Truth? I didn't want to let him down. Something had come over him since he got this big Sophia thing idea in his head. His power had changed in the slightest of ways. It had lost some of its desperation, its doomed oppressiveness.

  In short, Marek had lightened up, just a bit. I loved him either way but, I have to admit, this way was easier. I didn't want to burst his happy bubble.

  "What if they're scary? What if they call me a fake and flatten me with mean blasts of you suck? I'm not sure I can do this."

  He reached for my hand and squeezed, sending a sweet throb of encouragement. I loved the way he reached into my brain and tapped the endorphins. "We are going to talk. That's all. They'll see what makes you special. Just be yourself. Act naturally."

  "No way. If I'm going to do this, I need to act like a Sophia."

  "You already do." He gave my hand another squeeze before letting go to open the door.

  I wished the walls were mirrored so I could appraise my appearance one last time on the way down the hall. I rubbed a finger across my front teeth and Marek laughed. "Relax. You look fine."

  "I need to look wise." We took a rear staircase up a floor to a mezzanine where he card-swiped the lock. The door opened into a short hallway that led to a large set of double doors. "So, how long has it been since the last American Sophia?"

  "Seventeenth century. New England." He hesitated. "She was a midwife from Massachusetts."

  Maybe he was nervous, too. "Babies are nice. And she was technically a medical professional. So, this Sophia was loved and respected and, after living happily ever after, she passed on without a successor and you've all been alone ever since?"

  Marek squirmed. Okay, he flicked his eyes away. For him, that was squirming. "We can talk about this later."

  "No, we can talk about it now," I said almost sweetly. My Sophia-senses, or whatever he'd call them, were tingling. "You're hiding something, I can feel it. Spill."

  "Fine. Her abilities made some humans suspicious, even though she was an exemplary citizen who was greatly loved and respected by all who knew her. Humans don't remember such things when hysteria strikes. She was persecuted during the Salem witch trials and executed in 1692. Oh, look, we're here."

  At the word executed, my legs locked and I froze. He dragged me the last few steps to the massive doors and pushed me through the same way I often shoved my cat into the bedroom.

  A moment later I forgot all about it because when the door closed behind us, I experienced what it must have been like for an early Christian to find herself in a Roman coliseum. The doors boomed shut with a sound not unlike the crack of doom.

  If this was a courtroom, then I'm friggin' Judge Judy.

  This was an amphitheater.

  When we entered the room everyone inside dropped their conversations and turned to face us, breaking off from their little groups and standing separately like statues. One man, an older gentleman with short hair the color of sunset on silver, greeted Marek, his voice carrying across the room. I guessed this was Epidauros, after all.

  A second later his power reached me. I gulped. Not acoustics, then. Acoustics didn't make every hair on your body stand up. Marek's power usually felt like threat and danger and impending storm; this man was different. Powerful, yes. But this was authority, not force.

  One touch convinced me that whatever he said, I'd trust it, I'd believe it, and I'd do it. Not because he compelled me but because he felt like one hundred percent boss of everything and it would never occur to me to do anything else. He didn't inspire fear—just obedience.

  The feeling subsided when he saw me, as if he remembered his manners and pulled himself back. Maybe he pitied the human trying to hide behind Marek's arm. He smiled at me, benevolence warming his eyes, and strode to meet us in the orchestra of the room.

  When he drew closer Marek greeted him. "Dunkan, it's good to see you again."

  "And you, Marek."

  "Your brother, is he well?"

  "Pontian is as well as he ever is. Then again, healers don't have excuses to be anything but. Well." Dunkan glanced at me but did not address me directly. "This is hopeful news you've brought me."

  His smile seemed genuine and his power felt honest so I relaxed a notch. Marek and Dunkan exchanged a few more personal words before Dunkan stepped back, adopting formal manners and resuming his authoritarian stance.

  Several others filed closer to extend greetings. The rest of the assembly drifted up the aisles to sit in the semi-circles of benches rising up and around the room. No one else's power announced itself to me and it started to feel more like a job interview.

  Okay. This isn't so bad. Smile and wave, girl. Pretend you're in charge.

  As I shook the last proffered hand and returned the last polite hello, I turned back to Marek to show him my can-do smile. However, Marek was no longer at my side.

  No one was. I stood alone on the tiled circle. The room fell silent and it all happened so quickly I didn't even have time to react. By the time my brain told my adrenal glands to sound the Oh Shit! Alarm, Dunkan commenced the proceedings. Faces fell to impassiveness. Even Marek wore his neutral game face.

  Dunkan stood at the center of the half-circle, his back to me as he addressed the council. "By the gods, our witnesses: we, the One Hundred and Fifty-First Conclave, do convene on this date for the purpose of hearing the petition of one citizen, by right and true Name of Marek Thurzo. Rise, Citizen Thurzo. Do you wish to address the Conclave?"

  Marek stood, hands folded in front like a pall bearer, and answered in baritone. "I do."

  I succeeded in wrestling my eyebrows down to their usual place on my forehead. Citizen Thurzo would get an earful from me later when I petitioned his ass six ways to next Sunday. We're going to talk is all... yeah, right.

  "Members of Conclave, my thanks for your time and attention." Several heads tipped in his direction. I did my best to keep from frowning at him. "The American Demivampire have been without the guidance of the Sophia Oracle for several hundred years. Few possess substantial information regarding the nature of this elusive muse. Several Conclave members may remember my role in previous examinations of Sophia candidates, none of whom have been deemed true Oracles."

  He paused, making eye contact with one or two people. "For the first time I bring forth a candidate of my own. To the Conclave I present Ms. Sophia Galen, her right and true Name."

  Every pair of eyes found me, some flashing a brief light, others scrutinizing me intently. Dunkan gestured, indicating I should step forward, and addressed me. "Ms. Sophia Galen..."

  "Sophie." I interrupted without thinking. "Just Sophie."

  "Ms. Galen." The amendment was accompanied by an expression that implied he'd prefer not to be interrupted again. "What do you know of the Sophia Oracle?"

  "Only what Marek has told me," I admitted. "The DV are subject to the process of evolution, which marks both physical and spiritual changes. I have to say, I still don't understand it well but the gist of it seems pretty simple."

  I took a deep breath and held my composure. Public speaking sucks at best, but this was infinitely worse. This crowd might eat me if they didn't like what I said.

  "Evolution
is like every little sin brings you one step closer to being damned. Thing is, even if you're sorry, you can never be forgiven. No absolution. No starting over. No second chances. God must have realized how terrible a fate it was, so He created the Sophia to compensate. You might not get a second chance but, with a Sophia's help, you might not ever need one."

  I clasped my hands and rocked back on my heels, more confident now. My gut told me I was spot on and, when I peeked at Marek, he didn't have his head buried in his hands. Good sign, right there.

  Dunkan, however, didn't hand me a gold star. "A passable, if rudimentary, definition. Your choice of words likens it to a children's story rather than the sacred ideology of our people. However, you speak honestly and with sensitivity and we detect no malice in your intent."

  I didn't think he wanted a response, which was good because I wasn't sure I had a polite one. Silence seemed the prudent way to go at the moment.

  "Based, therefore, on your interpretation of the Sophia, tell us why you have come forth as a candidate."

  Technically, I didn't come forth—Marek dragged me in here—but I had a funny feeling it was probably an unacceptable response. "Marek thought some my qualities are Sophia-like in nature. He trusts the combined experience and knowledge of the Conclave will be able to make a determination."

  A woman spoke from her seat in the rings of benches. "What do you seek to gain?"

  "Me? I don't seek to gain anything."

  "Ms. Galen, everybody wants something. Are we to believe you are simply being generous in seeking the title of Sophia?"

  I surveyed the strange faces, at a complete loss for a response. Something in Marek's eyes encouraged me to continue. He purposefully refrained from reaching out to me with his power so it wouldn't look like he was coercing me.

  I knew holding back was a strain on him. I wore his essence the way I wore his jacket. His presence was always there, keeping us in constant contact, reassuring and comforting. His willingness to endure this separation was a big indication of how important this was.