Dead of Winter (31 page)

  If he was alive.

  Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey. She had to wait for him, but there was no reason she couldn't entertain herself while she did. The brown liquid burned her throat, sending waves of comforting warmth through her restless limbs. After a few swallows, she felt herself beginning to relax. A smile came to her lips as she thought of the things she'd say to Ben when he came through the door. Maybe she would even tie him to the bed all night just to make sure he didn't wander off again. She could untie him once she worked out a strategy for taking care of Fodor Glava. Ben wouldn't appreciate it, but it would keep him out of trouble.

  Half an hour later, the bottle fell to the wooden floor with a clunk, its remaining contents darkening the floorboards beneath it. Cora's snores filled the small room. Aided by the alcohol, her fatigue had finally overcome her worry and drawn her into a deep and dreamless slumber.

  Through the frosted glass of the window, gleaming eyes watched her sleep before slipping away into shadow.

 
 

 
 
 

Fodor Glava stood in front of the Northern Hotel, a grin spread across his red lips. The traffic in the street was beginning to thin as the night grew later. Even still, he could feel heat flowing through the veins of the miners wandering the streets and alleys. Their blood called out to him, promising him satisfaction for his desire, but he held the thirst in check. Behind him, the hunter lay in her room, dead to the world. Were it not for the wards she had placed, she would already be his. That she was safe even in her vulnerability irked him, but he refused to let the thought ruin such a beautiful night.

  In a corner of his mind, Glava could feel the body of Washington Jones stirring in the storage room of the Pioneer. Unlife spread through the gunman's cold arms and legs, and his dead fingers began flexing. Glava watched through the newborn vampire's eyes as it rose on unsteady feet. He could feel the ravenous hunger searing the belly of the
vrykolakas
, but he commanded the slave to wait for his return. The rebirth of Washington Jones as
nosferatu
would drain Glava's strength; he needed to feed before he could complete the birthing ritual.

  The vampire returned his attention to the street, regarding the miners like a butcher sizing up a herd of cows. Any of them would do to satisfy his hunger, but the taste of miner's blood had grown stale in his throat. He longed for younger, sweeter blood.

  A group of men stumbled out of a nearby saloon and began ambling off in a common direction. Glava detached himself from the hotel's shadow and followed them. His shoes weren't suited for walking in snow, but wet socks and wet pants didn't bother him. Following the miners was a slow business; the leader kept them more or less together, but their progress was hampered by slips, stumbles, and the occasional quarrel.

  After a long walk, they made their way onto the front porch of a building, arguing over who would go first. The vampire grinned again as he looked up at the painted sign of the Purdy brothel. Mortals were so predictable. His unwitting guides struggled through the front door, one of them getting shut out in the process. The straggler hit his head on the closing door and collapsed in a cursing heap. Glava watched the man try to pull himself back up, almost feeling moved to pity. A shadow of a thought to help him flickered through the vampire's mind. Before he could refuse it, a hand reached out into the cold night and pulled the miner inside.

  Glava relished the chill of the air for a moment longer before letting himself in. The gaudy lights winked at him as he removed his gloves. A porter moved to greet him.

  "Good evening, sir," the man said with a slight bow.

  "And to you," Glava replied, offering the man a smile.

  "What can I do for you?"

  The vampire reached into his pocket and produced a number of bills. "One of your nicer accommodations, if you would be so kind."

  "Of course, sir," the porter said, bowing again. "Have you a preference?"

  "Something light, I believe."

  The young man grinned and turned, leading Glava up the staircase. The vampire followed in silence, reveling in the feeling of so many warm bodies so near to his own. This brothel teemed with life at its most intense, sweaty and passionate, each door glowing with the energy of the men and women within. It was all he could do to keep himself from tearing into his guide as a prelude to a symphony of bloody revelry. All in good time, he reminded himself. Once he'd dealt with the hunter and her smarmy British pet, he would have his pick of the finest morsels this town had to offer.

  The porter led him to a door on the second floor, bowed, and returned the way he had come. Glava's eyes lingered on the man's neck for a moment before he opened the door. The walk through the brothel, short though it had been, had worked him into a blood craze.

  And there in the room was his first taste. The young woman stood next to a wash tub, her body wrapped in a towel. She glanced up and smiled when he entered. She tossed the towel aside and walked over to him, her body gleaming in the soft light.

  "Well, ain't you a fancy one?" she said, running her fingers over his suit. "I reckon you don't even need me to wash you up."

  "I do try to keep myself polished," Glava said. The heat from her body called to him. "We can proceed directly to the boudoir if you prefer."

  "I just may," she said, lowering her hand to curl around his. When their skin touched, she took a deep breath. "My, but ain't you frozen to the bone! Ain't you got no gloves?"

  "My hands prefer their freedom," Glava said.

  She giggled. "Well, I hope the rest of you ain't so chilly, or we might have us a problem."

  She led him through the archway into the bedroom. Candlelight played on the frosty windows as she laid herself out on the bed. Glava remained on his feet, his skin aflame with lust. She opened her legs slowly, teasing him, but his golden eyes lingered on her neck.

  "What are you waiting for, honey?" she asked.

  "Just enjoying the moment, my dear," Glava said. "What is your name?"

  "Annabelle Rose."

  He smiled. "A name as beautiful as its owner."

  "Clean, handsome, and sweet," she said. "No wonder I ain't never seen you here before. Your wife probably never lets you out of her sight."

  "I doubt she would, if she were alive."

  Fine brows arched above her blue eyes. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drudge up the past."

  "There is much to uncover," he said, his smile never wavering, "but it is of no concern. She has been gone a long time now."

  Annabelle's smile returned. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. No trouble with a jealous old lady, then."

  "None at all." Glava lowered himself onto the bed. Annabelle curled up next to him, wrapping a long white leg around both of his. Her breath bathed his neck as her lips hovered by his ear.

  "You're a bit over-dressed, honey," she whispered.

  "I suppose I am," he said, and he reached down and removed his shoes. She grinned as her hands worked at his tie, the light playing in her blue eyes. Glava returned her smile. It had been many years since he'd been with a woman like this, and he was determined to enjoy it. He hadn't yet decided if he would take her before or after the copulation. Planning too much ahead could ruin the excitement of the moment.

  Her fingers began working at the buttons of his suit. "Ain't much of a talker, are you?"

  "Your beauty steals my words," Glava said.

  "You quit that," she said, giving him a playful shove. "I ain't putting up with no sweet talking, not even from you. I already got me a cart full of miners in love with me, not to mention a marshal's deputy. Don't need no fancy dandy getting sweet on me, too, or I might just up and leave with you."

  "Leave with me?" he asked. "Why would you choose me over any of your other suitors?"

  She laughed again, a lilting sound. "Maybe you ain't as smart as you look. Why, you're the fanciest feller I seen come through here in a great while. You even got that fancy way of talking that says you ain't from around here, and you said you ain't got no wife. Why wouldn't I run off with you?"

  Glava smiled at her. "You are unhappy with your life here?"

  "I reckon I ain't," Annabelle said, laying back on the mattress and spreading her arms above her head. "I guess it's an okay living. I got it pretty good here, or better than some in the trade anyway. Men come in steady, and the madam looks after us proper. I expect it's better than doing some man's wash for him or digging in one of them mines." She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at him. "Still, I reckon it'd be a sight nicer living as your wife, what with your pretty eyes and pretty words. We'd best get finished with our business before I decide to do just that."

  The vampire looked her over, taking in her porcelain skin and full figure. To think that he would start his conquest of this tiny little town with so pretty a girl. The taste of such women was exquisite; their vitality and fertility sweetened the blood in a way nothing else could. A whore's life stole such happiness quickly, leaving behind a broken and bitter shell. Glava smiled to himself. Taking her now only proved his capacity for mercy. She would live on forever as his servant, ignorant of the disillusionment that would have devastated her.

  "What're you thinking, honey?" Annabelle asked, running her hand along his arm.

  "Actually, I was considering your proposal, my dear."

  "Quit your funning, now," she said, laughing again. "A gentleman like you don't want no whore for a wife. You could go get yourself some fancy lady from the opera house or somewhere."

  "On the contrary," Glava said, "high-society women bore me."

  "Is that right?" she asked

  He nodded. So did all other women, but saying so might ruin her mood. "Would you accept such an offer?"

  She blinked in surprise. "Well," she said, "I don't rightly know. Ain't never got proposed to by no rich man before." She looked around the room. "You would take me away from here?"

  "Far away," he said, his eyes gleaming. Mortals were so predictable. "Taking you from this place would only be the beginning."

  "Is that right?" Her eyes lit up. "What else?"

  "Are you afraid of dying?"

  Annabelle wrinkled her nose. "What kind of a question is that to ask a girl you intend to marry?"

  "An honest one," the vampire said.

  She thought for a minute, then looked back at him. "Ain't never given it much thought. Still, I reckon I'm about as scared of it as the next girl. Don't want it to happen tomorrow, if that's what you're asking."

  He grinned at her. "An honest answer," he said. "In the interest of maintaining this wonderful honesty between us, I would like to tell you something."

  "How about your name for a start?" she asked. "I ain't marrying no man that won't tell me his name, no matter how fancy he is."

  "My name is Fodor Glava."

  "That ain't no kind of name," she said. "How about I call you Theodore instead?"

  "If you prefer," Glava said.

  "Now what was you going to tell me, Theodore?"

  "That I can give more than you imagine," he said.

  "I ain't never been used to riches," Annabelle said, "so I'll be real easy to impress. Why, I expect a real mattress with some of them silk sheets and maybe a maid to clean up after me would be enough to make me happy. You look rich enough to manage that."

  "When I wish it, yes." The thirst screamed through his body, but his will was stronger. "However, the value of what I offer you now is not measured in gold or possessions, but in life itself." He paused, admiring the innocent eagerness in her eyes. "Annabelle Rose, I offer you a future in which you may live by my side, undying and eternally young, until the world itself crumbles into dust."

  Her musical laugh filled the room again. "Who are you, Jesus Christ?"

  "No." He winced at the name, his breath hissing between his teeth.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, honey." Annabelle sat up and pulled him into her arms. "I didn't mean no harm."

  Glava drew the fresh scent of her skin into his lungs. "I know, my dear." He kissed her neck, feeling the pulse of her warm blood beneath his lips. Running his fingers through her hair, he brought his mouth to her ear. "My offer still stands. You can have immortality."

  Her arms tightened around him. "I'll take it."

  The vampire's golden eyes flashed. He brushed his lips across her neck, feeding his appetite with the taste of her sweat. It had been so long since he had tasted human blood sweetened with desire. Most of his victims were filled with fear and loathing, a flavor not without merit, but none the worse for a change. He could taste this woman's lust for his body and his promises on her skin.

  Glava ran his fangs behind her ear, taking great care not to pierce the delicate skin. Annabelle giggled, running her hands along his exposed chest and stomach. Pressing his hand into her back, he held her body against his and tilted her head to one side. A sigh escaped her lips as his mouth closed on her neck.

  Annabelle gasped, a confused sound born from pleasure and pain. Her sweet blood filled the vampire's mouth and seeped out from under his lips in tiny streams. He leaned into her body, pressing her down onto the bed. Her back arched slightly as the muscles in her arms and legs relaxed.

  Soon, the warmth left her body, the last trickle flowing down his throat and into his limbs. Laying her down on the sheets, he brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face. She really was a beautiful woman. The warmth of her blood was pure ecstasy, twisting through his body like ropes of black lightning. His toes flexed as he closed his eyes. Even after centuries of unlife, he still found the flavor of a young woman's desire one of the most beautiful things in the world.