by R. J. Blain
“Unless he turned his bathroom into a seaside paradise, there is zero chance his bathroom could possibly compare to ours.”
“What if I told you I was considering renovating that bathroom to be more of a rainforest motif?”
“We will have a fight, one I mean to win. Do you know what I think of when I think of rainforests?”
“I cannot even begin to guess.”
“Malaria.”
“Our bathroom would be free from pests, I assure you.”
“I like the rocks. Don’t you touch my rocks. You have lost any rights to claim that bathroom. It’s now mine, and I’ll tolerate you using it. Under no circumstances will you change it into a rainforest. If you want a rainforest, you’ll just have to renovate a different bathroom. You can turn the white marble one into a rainforest, but you’re not touching my bathroom.”
Emerick sighed. “I see this particular situation has progressed from my bathroom to our bathroom to your bathroom.”
“My bathroom is a really nice bathroom, and I have not enjoyed it sufficiently to exchange it at this point in time. The past few days, I have spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about my bathroom.”
“There’s a reason for that. It involves the state of your clothes, I’m certain. I do admit some regret on my part sending you out in such nice apparel, which I will now have to destroy and replace.” Emerick wrinkled his nose. “I do appreciate your willingness to preserve my vehicle.”
“It’s much easier to replace clothing than it is the upholstery of a nice car, and for some reason, I can’t imagine you driving anything other than a nice car.”
“It’s a Honda Civic,” the vampire admitted.
My mouth dropped open, and I pointed at him. “Your favorite car is a Honda Civic? You, who recreated an ocean-side cliff, prefers a Honda Civic?” If someone told me the world did loop-de-loops while circling the sun, I’d believe in such nonsense. Emerick Lowrance, a spoiled, old vampire with a world-class ego, drove a Honda Civic? “I expected something like a Bugatti.”
“While I own a Bugatti, I have no aspirations to become a mere smear on the asphalt should it cease proper operations. My Civic is reliable, it does as it’s told, and never gives me any problems. The Bugatti? The Bugatti gives me problems. If the Bugatti is not tempting me to set records of the number of speeding tickets one vampire can accrue within a week, it draws attention, requires indoor parking or a good valet, and is unsuitable for unnoticed jaunts into Long Island. I do quite like my Civic, if you please.”
“Please tell me you at least bought it new.”
“With all of the whistles, and I got it in silver as I do quite like silver.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Does silver actually hurt us?”
“Not at all. Crosses won’t, either. Not really. You might have some discomfort should a holy item be blessed beneath the sun, but silver, religious symbols, and other old wives’ tales won’t do anything of harm to us. The sun and stakes are our primary weaknesses, and the sun’s influence over us can be tamed over time. Stakes will always prove problematic, though as you age, you will find fewer stakes will have the ability to stop your heart and breathing. You can paralyze me with few of your stakes, and the rest would be merely painful and slow me down. A stake to the heart will kill any vampire no matter the age. We do need our hearts to survive.”
“Wait. Are you saying I could have just staked the assholes in the heart and that would’ve been enough?”
“You can’t survive with a piece of wood piercing your heart, Pepper. That is a universal truth among humans and vampires alike. A bullet through the heart may not kill us, assuming one is old enough, but we would be a long time healing and be in a death-like state for many weeks or months while recovering. That same injury with a stake would be lethal. The wood and the sun’s touch on it would permanently paralyze the heart.”
The more I thought I knew, the more I realized I still had a lot left to learn about what it meant to be a vampire. “Did you know my father would never allow me to drive something like a Civic?”
“I presumed as much. It’s not a symbol he would want anyone seeing his heir in.”
“I can’t drive,” I admitted. “It wasn’t appropriate. My father usually had someone bring a car around to pick me up, and I’d use services if I needed. I ordered a lot of stuff to my place, or I walked. But I did so when it wouldn’t be obvious that I was his heir.”
I hated the bitterness in my voice.
“Can’t or don’t?”
“Can’t. I had an identification card, not a driver’s license.”
“We will change that, and as I am a most generous soul, you can learn in my Civic. As soon as this ugly business with your mother is finished, we can begin making headway on your practical education. Fortunately, there are driving schools that do evening courses, so as long as we do your courses in the winter, you will be able to attend. There’s at least one DMV that will do evening driving tests to accommodate nocturnals such as ourselves. It’s no matter. Once you are fully licensed, you will then get to drag me to the car dealerships and pick any vehicle you’d like, although I would appreciate if you avoided anything that might be labeled as a junker.”
“I haven’t really needed a license,” I protested.
“You need a license. You need to have the freedom to come and go as you please, and it’s much easier and safer for a vampire to come and go as she pleases when she has a car that has been properly proofed from the sun.”
While I recognized he was right, and that my inability to drive a car at my father’s planning and manipulation had been to curtail my activities, Emerick’s determination to situate my life to his standards flustered me.
His standards were a lot higher than mine.
I blamed my father for that.
“Okay. I guess I need a driver’s license. And a bath.” I grimaced. “Where is this hose? It’s going to take all night to get somewhat clean.”
“I’ll walk you to his home, explain the situation, and retrieve my car when you’re safe in his care.”
I wondered who had earned so much of Emerick’s esteem. I’d find out soon enough.
Nineteen
You have an unfortunate infestation of attorneys.
The modest two-story home seemed like the last place I’d find a brood’s master living. From the white picket fence to the immaculate lawn, he lived the American dream, something I admired. “Is he a younger vampire?”
“Oh, no. Kennwick is quite old. He’s a little younger than I am, and he likes to blend in with his neighbors. Unlike our brood, he has his members scattered throughout New York state. He prefers that everyone has every freedom he can allow, although he’s more likely to have trouble. He moves every few years to try a new style of living. I believe this home has charmed him.” Emerick strolled to the door and pressed the doorbell. “Try not to stink up his house too much.”
“Just because I roosted with some bats doesn’t mean I’ve completely lost my manners.”
“No, you’ve only lost your sense of smell, and you’re determined to ruin mine, too.”
I laughed.
The door opened, and if I hadn’t known better, I would’ve believed Kennwick couldn’t be a day over eighteen. I suspected he dealt with being carded if he even looked at alcohol. The vampire’s dark eyes narrowed and settled on me. “Why is your wife filthy, Emerick?”
“I need to borrow your hose, as I won’t let her ruin my car. She thought it wise to roost with bats.”
“She thought correctly, as it took you over a week to track her down. I’d shake your hand, but I’m spoiled, and I don’t want to have to bleach bat guano off my hands tonight.”
I had two choices: I could laugh, or I could get angry. Laughing in the face of embarrassment went a hell of a lot further than getting upset over the truth. “He wanted me to lay low. This is about as low as it goes. I’m sorry to intrude, but could I please make use of that hose? Then I need
a metal garbage can, some gasoline, and a few matches.”
“We already talked about this, Pepper,” Emerick muttered. “We are not lighting a dumpster fire.”
“It’s a trash fire. There are no dumpsters involved in my plan.”
“We aren’t lighting a fire.”
I could think of one way to rile Emerick up, and I couldn’t think of a single reason to restrain myself. “Why the hell not? The only way these leathers are being purified is through a ritualized burning. As I don’t have any other clothes, I’ll have to dance around the pyre naked.”
Kennwick chuckled. “You hadn’t told me she was so bold, Emerick.”
“It is a behavior I’m cultivating, although there will be no dancing around a pyre, naked or otherwise.”
I snorted at Emerick’s claim he was cultivating bad behavior intentionally. “Emerick said you might have something I could wear. And a hose. At this point, a hose would be amazing, as I wouldn’t dream of tracking any of this mess into someone’s home.”
“The hose is in the back yard. Emerick knows where it is. I’ll find you something to wear in the meantime, and once you’re hosed off, there’s a bathroom right off the kitchen in the back, so you won’t do any harm tracking water so you can get properly dried off and changed. Are we on, Emerick?”
“Tomorrow night, now that Pepper’s back where she belongs. I forgot to instruct her to return home, and I failed to anticipate how she’d ditch all of her old habits to avoid detection. It hadn’t occurred to me to check Long Island until we ran out of places in Manhattan she might be hiding.”
“There’s nothing quite as vexing as a smart woman, is there? Perhaps an independent and headstrong one.”
“You will find Pepper to be smart, independent, and headstrong. She is also cunning, and she is learning to be impulsive to balance out her tendency to be methodical, as methodical often equates to being predictable. I’m very pleased she recognized her old patterns could create problems for her.”
“The hose, Emerick. Before I strangle you with it while cleaning off this mess.”
“It seems my wife has reached her threshold for running around while wearing guano. If you’ll excuse us, Kennwick?”
“Please, hose your wife off before there’s an attempted murder in my yard.”
I looked Kennwick in the eyes and said, “When I decide to murder someone, they die, Master Kennwick. I don’t attempt murder. I murder.”
Emerick snickered, placed a hand on my back, and pushed me towards the side of the house. “She’s quite serious, and she’s an excellent carver. Should that oak of yours lose an upper branch, offer Pepper the right to retrieve the branch before it falls. She has made good friends with her stakes, and she enjoys carving, so I’ll be on the lookout for good wood from the best trees.”
“I’ve already procured a wedding present for you both, but I’d be honored to have her take a branch from my tree should a branch break during a future storm. I’ll call you. Mistress Lowrance, would you like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”
I wanted all three, but chocolate would go a long way to making the night perfect. “Hot chocolate, please.”
“Be careful with any lactose. She’s particularly sensitive.”
“I’ve got the good stuff here, as I am a most spoiled master. Emerick, I’ll put the clothes in the bathroom, so you can just take her there when you’ve gotten her cleaned to your satisfaction.”
“It will take more soap and time than we have to accomplish that.”
As I agreed with him, I headed for the back yard. I found the hose, removed all my stakes, piled them on the deck, and went to work. Starting with my hair counted as one of the worst mistakes I’d made in recent days. Even with Emerick’s help, it took an hour to get cleaned to a tolerable degree. With chattering teeth, I tiptoed to the bathroom, aware I left puddles in my wake.
The leather gave me a fight getting out of it, and I cursed the buckles while I freed myself. Some of my more vehement curses earned a laugh from the men in the kitchen.
“Do you need help?” Emerick asked, his tone amused.
“Enroll me in a psychiatric ward and leave me on the doorstep. I’ve earned it, thinking sleeping with a bunch of bats was a good idea.”
“It was a good idea. It was just an odiferous idea.”
Kennwick laughed. “And don’t you worry yourself at all over the mess in the kitchen. We already cleaned it up, and we took the time to clean your stakes, oil them, and give them proper sheaths. I keep a lot of spare sheaths around, so we have been amusing ourselves partnering your stakes with new sheaths. I also dug out some nice storage boxes for you. As my brood doesn’t have any good carvers in it, they just sit empty.”
While I’d heard the men muttering in the kitchen, I hadn’t thought they’d be doing unnecessary things. Then again, I’d married Emerick, a probable king among men who did unnecessary things. “Thank you, Master Kennwick.”
“Just Kennwick, please. If you need help, just let us know. The leather’s probably stiffened and swelling from the water. Have your husband give you something that’s able to handle bloodshed. Save the leathers for demonstrations when he wants to show you off.”
“He’s a showy master, Kennwick. That means he’ll have me in leather all the time.”
“I see no problems with this,” Emerick announced.
“Why am I not surprised?”
The two vampires resumed their muttering, and I continued my battle with the uncooperative buckles. The bathroom had a shower, which I made use of, and any other day, I would’ve felt some guilt over emptying an entire bottle of shampoo and body wash in my quest to rid myself of any trace of guano. I changed into the clothes provided; the yoga pants included pockets, the t-shirt boasted a rock band logo, and I’d have to buy a pair of the same fuzzy slippers, as they did a good job of warming my chilled feet. When I emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my head, Emerick and Kennwick were still examining my collection of stakes, and most of them were partnered with a leather sheath or dark velvet bag.
My new toothpick held their attention.
“How did you carve this without breaking it?” Kennwick asked. “It’s absolutely exquisite.”
“I just took my time and made sure to keep from cutting too deeply. It helped the knife’s blade was pretty sharp when I started the work on it.” I retrieved my toothpick, and I gave it a kiss. “I’m very proud of this one.”
Kennwick’s mouth dropped open.
“Please pardon his reaction, Pepper. Your new stake, while diminutive, is frighteningly potent. He, who understands about the potency of stakes, is alarmed you would kiss something that could easily kill you if it decided it tired of your presence.”
“How potent is this one, anyway? It was a challenge to carve, but it’s warmer than the others.”
“You married a sensor?” Kennwick asked.
“I’ve no actual proof she’s a sensor, but she’s one of the best carvers I’ve ever seen. She likely senses something from the stakes, although I’m not sure she classifies as an actual sensor.”
“Define that for me, please.”
Emerick smiled and held his hand out for my toothpick of a stake, which I placed on his palm. “A sensor is someone who can detect magic, identify its strengths, and otherwise is highly tuned to anything preternatural. Sensors are fairly uncommon because it takes the right set of circumstances for them to be discovered. Considering the circumstances of your making, your requirement for high-grade bloods, and your tendency to become rather ill when you are given low-grade bloods, it’s possible.”
“What type of blood does she need, in case my brood needs to provide for her during an emergency?”
“She was raised on vampiric blood, and she’s hunted ever since she was left to rot in her grave. She didn’t rot, as you can tell, but she refused to drink from unwilling humans, and so she only went after fugitives. She calls them miscreants, a term I find rather appealing.”<
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“She’s the one who has been leaving vampire bodies all over Manhattan?”
I bit my lip at Kennwick’s incredulous tone.
“She is. No fault of her own. She didn’t know what else to do, and her maker had no idea what he was doing. Her turning was an accident. A fruitful accident, but an accident all the same. You heard about Master Clarke.”
“Yes, I had heard something of your maker’s difficulties a year ago.”
“He challenged me for her and lost.”
Kennwick’s brows raised at that. “How much blood of his did she drink, if he thought he could take her from you as a fresh member of your brood?”
“He stopped her before she killed him, taking control of her as long as necessary to make certain she killed another vampire. She had a bad time of her making and has no memory of it. I intend to preserve that for as long as I can, if possible.”
“She was raised on Master Clarke’s blood?”
“In high quantity.”
Kennwick whistled. “Any idea how many pints?”
“I’m guessing twenty to thirty judging from what my maker told me, from three different vampires. Maybe more. She probably got eight to ten from my maker alone. It depends on the health and age of the vampire. He was reluctant to discuss the circumstances, as he didn’t want to awaken her memories. But, the heart of our problem with our women is that we’re not providing sufficient quantities of blood, along with the dated methodology of the brides broods. One is easier to fix than the other, but the mistresses will likely make changes if it means they can raise new brides.”
“You’ve found yourself a priceless treasure, Emerick.”
“My priceless treasure is determined, independent, stubborn, and headstrong. She’s also terrible at dancing, so I will have flattened feet before the ball.”
“Ah, yes. I was contacted by Mistress Avalon. I’ve been informed there is a bride who might be interested.”