by R. J. Blain
Compared to Emerick’s blood, drinking Wagyu reminded me of attempting to choke down coffee left in the pot all day, leaving a bitter aftertaste in its wake along with a disgruntled stomach. As disgruntled beat thirsty, I dealt with it. I refused to be considered uncouth and unmannered, I carried the bottle and its cork to the kitchen, rinsing it in the sink before placing it in the bin marked for recycling used blood bottles. I wondered if the bottles, much like my collection of stakes, possessed some form of magic. Then again, Emerick did seem like the type to be frugal while also dabbling with the trappings the wealthy enjoyed.
Without anything else to do, I explored the penthouse, discovering my collection of stakes in one of the upper drawers of Emerick’s dresser, along with a lot of interesting accessories I assumed were meant for hunting and dispatching miscreant vampires. The belt with stake holders appealed, as did the leather leggings and tight-fitted blouse. The dark-colored clothes suited me better than a ball gown, and I bet the whole outfit could be worn beneath one of the oversized dresses without being noticed. I changed, pleased with how well the clothing fit, how comfortable it was, and that the belt and its many stake holders accommodated most of my collection.
Modified thigh holders, which could snap to my belt to ensure they stayed in place, allowed me to secure the rest of my stakes to my person.
After poking around, I found a pair of boots in my size, and they had a little sheathe for stakes along my calf.
Emerick deserved a nice Christmas present for his considerate acquisition of clothing.
All I needed to make my night perfect was a proven miscreant to stake and drain, removing one more piece of filth from the world.
Then again, I didn’t really look forward to the draining part of my job. If a miscreant crossed my path, I’d still do it to make sure the bastard never got back up, but I’d have to have a drink of something better to get the vile taste out of my mouth. That led me straight back to the brood’s master.
I needed to look carefully into the hiring arrangements he had with his vampires; could I afford the therapists I’d need to restore myself to sanity? A year on the streets had obviously warped me. Dressed for a night on the town, I headed for my new office, whistling at the laptop and desktop setup I’d enjoy using.
It wasn’t bad being crazy, when crazy involved having a lot of fun toys destined to make work more pleasant, was it?
The boxes of documents remained, and to my dismay, a few new boxes waited for me to sort through. It would take several nights to make any significant progress but working beat pacing around the penthouse like some damned stalker. I grabbed a new addition to my workload, dragged it close, and pulled open the lid.
Confetti burst out of the box with a blast of air.
Narrowing my eyes, I set aside the lid, discovering more confetti and some wrapped presents inside. An envelope with my chosen name waited on the top, and I picked it up, shaking off the scraps of shiny paper that’d been cut up for the unconventional trap. Placing the envelope on my desk, I eyed the other boxes, and aware I might be wearing more confetti, I pulled off the lids.
Every damned box had traps, and one of the traps used glitter instead of confetti.
I had stakes.
Vampires hated stakes.
I could go carve a few younger stakes specifically for the purpose of safely paralyzing my foes. How old of a stake would I need to trap Emerick? He surely needed to help pay for his brood’s actions. I stared down at my attire, which shimmered in the office’s lights.
There was absolutely nothing threatening about a shimmering vampire, even armed to the teeth with stakes.
Death would be too good of a fate for the bastards responsible for the confetti and glitter. I would bide my time, accept my presents, and clean up before Emerick returned—
“Pepper?” the vampire in question asked.
Damn it. “I don’t exist until tomorrow,” I announced.
He laughed. “Curiosity got the cat, did it? Find anything of interest this fine evening? I thought you might enjoy some gifts from the more outgoing in the brood. I do hope you like them. I helped.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it. I hissed at the confirmation he’d been involved with the trapping of my office. “I had planned to do some work while waiting.”
“It’s not a work night.”
“Well, it would have been nice to know it was not a work night.” I shook as much of the glitter and confetti off my arms as possible and grabbed my rather large stockpile of presents, setting them on my desk a safe distance from my keyboard. “I got bored. You’re back earlier than I expected.”
The brood’s master strolled into my office and chuckled at the colorful mayhem decorating me and the floor. “We have an unexpected guest who wishes to meet with you, and he might have some information on your maker. I was warned you might not react well to his presence, as he was there when you were made.”
I stiffened, setting the last of my presents down as a chill crept through my entire body. “Could you repeat that again, please? I couldn’t have possibly heard you correctly.”
Someone knew what had happened to me before I’d risen from my grave? I couldn’t remember anything; I hadn’t been able to from that first dark night.
“Our guest was present when you were made. Unfortunately, it appears he was as much of a victim as you, but it seems I have him to thank for your survival. He is rather disgruntled, of course, that he was a participant. It’s not his first time crawling out of a grave, and it seems he took longer about it than you—and didn’t wish to test his thirst among humans until quite certain he wouldn’t be a risk. You’ll understand as you age as a vampire.”
“And you believe this guest?”
“I do. He’s my maker.”
My eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to me that Emerick’s maker might still be alive. To cover my ignorance, I asked, “You didn’t just pop out of the ground fully formed as a vampire?”
“However amusing that thought is, no, I did not just pop out of the ground fully formed as a vampire.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite. Master Clarke is in the reception, as he wanted to give me a chance to discuss the situation with you first. He thought you might not react well to his presence.” Emerick wrinkled his nose. “He also wishes to challenge my claim.”
“He wants to what?”
“Challenge my claim on you. As you have consumed his blood, he wishes to test his power over you. In our society, should he win, he will become your master and have the right to claim you into his brood.”
“Can I say no with my fist?”
“He underestimates my hold on you.”
“You’re delicious. I’m more than willing to drink more of your blood.”
“Pepper, now is not the time for you to enjoy your dessert.”
“But wouldn’t that make certain he couldn’t test your claim?”
“That is not the point.”
I matched his expression, wrinkling my nose and putting my hands on my hips. “It most certainly is the point. I said I was staying in this brood. I am not having that decision changed on me.”
“He believes he may stake a claim because without him, you would not enjoy your unlife. There is a certain amount of power that is held by a maker over his offspring. However, he isn’t your maker or the vampire I stole you from.”
“I have plenty of stakes, and I would be pleased to stab him with them all until I find the one best suited for draining him dry, beheading him, dumping holy water down his exposed esophagus, and filling his mouth with communion wafers. Do you have communion wafers? Also, I’m going to need a knife.”
A low chuckle warned me we weren’t alone, and my hand dropped to my stakes. I wrapped my fingers around a smoothly polished shaft, yanking it free of its holder.
Emerick sighed. “Master Clarke, this is my home.”
“You’re such a troublesome offspring. We meet again, Penelope.”
&nbs
p; I tensed, and Emerick’s control snapped into place, holding me still. “However, satisfying it might be to stake our guest, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that, Pepper. Master Clarke, she has chosen Pepper Lowrance as her name, and I ask that you respect that.”
“You’re getting feisty, Emmy.”
Emmy? It was fortunate Emerick held control, as I would’ve staked the bastard then and there for using such a ridiculous nickname for my favorite dessert.
Emerick strolled to me, returned my stake to its holster, and slipped his arm around my waist before releasing control over me. “You may kick, scream, and do whatever you feel, but you won’t be staking my maker today, Pepper.”
I hissed at the interloping vampire and fantasized about staking him and draining him dry.
“I see she’s turned into quite the feisty little vampire herself. She was far more dignified staring through death’s door. Calm the entire time, despite the hell her maker put her through before he permitted her to die and forced my blood down her throat. Her behavior leads me to believe she remembers nothing of being turned.”
“She drank enough of his blood to be made by him rather than by you. And don’t pretend you didn’t just attempt to take her from me.”
“I see she’s consumed a great deal of vampiric blood since mine. I could only sense an echo of my power. It seems you are right to have stated you’ve made your claim. I would be proud of you if you weren’t annoying me.”
Clarke’s tone implied amusement while his words told a different story. I struggled in Emerick’s iron hold on me before surrendering to my inability to escape him. Frustrated I couldn’t put my stakes to good use, I hissed again.
“She’s been on the streets for the past year, and I only recently found her. She protested her adoption into my brood, but she has come to terms with it. It helps she has good taste in men.”
I’d been around enough men about to engage in a cock fight to recognize Emerick meant to play ball with his maker, and I’d be the subject of their feuding. Involving myself would annoy both, which went a long way towards convincing me I should. “You’re my favorite dessert, and I will stake any dipshit who comes between me and my favorite dessert.”
“I am concerned she means that rather literally.”
“She does,” Emerick replied in his smuggest tone. “As her maker opted to leave her unattended, she drank the only blood she thought permissible: illegal fugitives who hunted innocents. She would hunt them, drain them of their blood, and escort them to their final graves once she finished with them. As such, she’s facing difficulties with mundane blood sources. That you were involved with her making explains much of her problems with chicken and lower-grade cow blood.”
“As I said, she drank quite deeply from my vein. I would not have donated that much intentionally. She did not wish to be turned into one of us, and I never make an unwilling.”
“I have no doubt you were both unwilling participants in whatever happened that night. Pepper, if I release you, are you going to go for his throat?”
“Yes,” I replied, and to make it clear I viewed him as a potential meal, I licked my lips. “I didn’t consent to be taken out of your brood, and that’s a staking offense, isn’t it?”
“He didn’t put in a serious effort. Consider it a rude knocking on the door at an early hour in the morning,” Emerick soothed, and he tightened his hold on me. “Despite our disagreements at times, I am grateful to my maker for my unlife.”
“He’s my most obnoxious child, going on to found his own brood and act like a little lordling in modern times—so prim and proper. I remember when you were but an annoying peasant. It’s just like you to snag the only woman made in this era because she’s a rarity.”
“I snagged her because she’s an excellent vampire hunter. Her gender was quite the pleasant surprise. She is already a master at crafting stakes as well. I suspect that gift came from your contribution to her unlife.”
“Crafting is a matter of personality, not of lineage. As you’ve proven you have a sufficient hold on her, we have matters to discuss.”
“If I release her, she may very well try to end your unlife. She does not appreciate when she is not given a choice in matters.”
“Yet you controlled her, and she is not staking you.”
“She consented after being made aware of what I can do to her once she consumed my blood. I will not have you undo what I have accomplished with her.”
“Which is what? Dressing her up like some harlot?”
Emerick stiffened, and I narrowed my eyes. “You’re one of those idiots who can’t handle when a woman dresses like a man. That’s the problem with old-fashioned men. Absolutely zero control over themselves. It’s clothes. Grow up and deal with it.”
Both of Clarke’s brows shot up. “You are either brave or foolish to make such comments to me in your precarious position.”
“She killed Carnegie.”
“He was a fool.”
“She caught him during a hunt, staked him, drained him dry, and sent him to his final grave within a span of ten to fifteen minutes.”
“During a hunt? Her hunt?”
“No, his. A child or youngling, I presume. She hunts vampires who abuse innocents. She tried to eat pizza when she first rose.”
Clarke grimaced. “That would turn any of our stomachs off mortal food.”
“Her diet consisted of fugitives for the entire first year of her unlife.”
“A rather vile brew, but a potent one. She has dietary concerns now? She seems thin. Thinner than I recall, albeit when she was brought into my presence, she’d already seen substantial abuse. Her reactions make me believe she has no memory of it.”
“For the better. The identity of her maker would go a long way towards earning her friendship.”
“That I can help you with, but you’ll find the answer to be a disturbing one at best. Shall we discuss this in your parlor? Perhaps a little more cordially.”
“Give me a few minutes to calm her, and then we will discuss the matter of her maker. She still learns our ways.”
“You haven’t had her long, that much is true. A few minutes makes no difference, but I will help myself to a bottle of something while I wait.”
“Just don’t drink all the Wagyu; it’s the only bottled blood she’s permitted to have at current.”
“Wagyu? Expensive tastes.”
“It’s the magic, not the breed. I’ve got Giovanni looking into our options.”
“I will accept the blame for that. She was made with potent blood, and it takes potent blood to sustain her.” Clarke turned and left, and I growled at his presumptuous attitude.
“Easy, Pepper. My maker is arrogant, but he’s earned his arrogance. He is quite old, but I think your stakes would be a match for even him. That said, you can’t attack every single vampire to enter our home. That he was present for your making will help us a lot in destroying your maker, and while he is many things, Master Clarke is no liar. While I’ve no doubt he’s interested in what makes modern women survive being turned into a vampire, he would never turn someone unwillingly. Even old vampires can be taken captive.”
A grunt from the sitting room implied Emerick’s maker had heard and didn’t approve of the brood master’s commentary.
“And you’re really sure I can’t stake him?”
“You would regret it, as he is our best lead to learning more about your maker. And the enemy of our enemy is our friend—for now.”
“That implies your maker is not normally your friend.”
Emerick chuckled, released his hold on me, and strolled to the door, waving for me to follow. “He is my maker, and despite appearances, I am quite grateful for my ongoing unlife. He wasn’t a gentle master, but in many ways, neither am I. I’ve been gentler with you than I would normally be. It is no fault of yours that you were abandoned. Had one of my children gone hunting like that without my leave, I would have added punishments to the payments of t
hose bounties. You had no knowledge of the dangers you courted. I take the safety and care of my brood seriously.”
“He’s worse than a mother hen,” Clarke contributed from the sitting room.
“He also has very sharp hearing despite his antiquity.”
“And you still have a smart mouth. How did I not beat that out of you?”
I followed Emerick into the sitting room to discover Clarke had taken the brood master’s chair. I flexed my hands, wondering if I could stake him before someone stopped me.
“He likes toying with me because he can, Pepper. I am man enough to not mind when my maker enjoys the comforts of my chair. It will make him jealous his home is not nearly as cozy as mine and that he lacks in good company.”
If I had to put up with two posturing vampires, I would go mad. Staking him would have to wait, at least until he told us more about the man who’d stolen my life. I sat on the couch, grabbed the throw blanket, and wrapped up in it. “You’re surprisingly tolerant, Emerick.”
“I’m a good host, and I’m the best of my maker’s offspring. He would rather vomit blood than confess his undying love for the son he raised, so don’t fret or worry about my pride. I can handle his quirks, as I have handled it from the first night I rose. I consider myself fortunate he didn’t force me to raise from the ground, as he often did.”
“It adds some color to their unlife. I did take every care with him, as I would have grieved my young rascal’s demise. I was quite fond of his mother.”
“Were you?” I regarded Clarke, who had paler hair than Emerick, dark blue eyes, and the frame I expected from a farmer toiling through heavy labor every day of his life. Comparatively, Emerick might break if flicked too hard with a fingernail.
“Quite, yes. She didn’t wish to become one of us, but she asked me to gift her child with long unlife. I was quite fond of his father, too, whom I likewise gifted with long unlife. Time was not as considerate to his father, who enjoys his final rest buried beside his mortal wife. I had underestimated his love for her, and had I known how misery would tail him upon her death, I would not have made him at all. Some lessons are hard to learn, even for one as old as I. Emerick has always been adventurous and curious, although he went through a period of grieving, as is proper, for his father and mother.”