Even Vampires Get the Blues (24 page)

“Well then, what are we going to do?” she wailed,
her big blue eyes swimming with tears. I felt mildly upset on her behalf. She seemed so distraught.

“Tell her about your project,” Finn said, taking a seat in the chair opposite. Clare abandoned me for him, curling up in his lap with a distressed look on her face.

“I've spent the last forty or so years researching a rumor I heard long ago. It concerned a manuscript that detailed the origins of the immortal races.”

I pulled back enough to look up at Paen, surprised by the words that echoed ones I'd heard not so many hours before.

“What does that have to do with recovering Sam's soul?” Clare asked.

Paen's eyes were bright with determination. “Somewhere in the information about the origins of the Dark Ones are details concerning how a soul may be restored without the means of a Beloved. What would work in that case for a Dark One should also work for Sam.”

“Are you sure this is a manuscript?” I asked, a vague sense of curiosity flickering inside me. “Not a statue?”

“No, it's a manuscript. Sixteenth century. It was named
Simia Gestor Coda
because the mage who wrote it supposedly had a fascination with monkeys.”

“But,” I said, my mind grinding to a halt, “I know about the
Coda.
”

“What?” Paen whirled around to stare at me. “How?”

“It's the manuscript Owen Race hired us to find. He said it was stolen from his house.”

Paen swore passionately. “I've been searching for it for almost forty years!”

“Is anyone else curious about the coincidences here?” I asked. “The Jilin God—”

“Is a statue of a monkey, yes,” Paen answered. “I noticed that as you have, but the two are separate objects, related only by the fact that both share a common theme.”

“More common than you know,” I said, then told him what I had learned on my first trip to Caspar's house.

He was pacing the small area in our living room by the time I finished. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

I held up my hand and ticked off the reasons. “Trapped in the beyond, lost the bird statue, meeting with seer, murdered by Pilar, resurrection. Besides, you never asked me.”

He glared at me. I shrugged. “All right, that wasn't fair, but to be honest, there has been so much going on, I didn't think of telling you about an item I'm trying to find for another client.”

“Owen Race,” Paen said as he paced by me.

“Yes.”

“The same man who was said to know where the Jilin God was.”

“Yes. Oh.” I frowned as I glanced up at him. “You think he's involved with Pilar, don't you?”

“It makes sense that he could well be involved, yes.”

“But you said Pilar was in the employ of Caspar Green,” Finn pointed out. Clare nibbled on a rose leaf.

“Yes, but Caspar wanted the statue at all costs,” I
said, pieces of the puzzle starting to slide together. At least a few of them were. “Pilar knew I had the bird statue, but he evidently didn't tell Caspar that.”

“He was acting on his own,” Finn said, nodding.

“Or on someone else's behalf,” Paen corrected.

“Like Owen Race's,” I said.

“He's a double agent?” Clare asked, her eyes huge. She turned to Finn. “This is so exciting! It's just like a spy movie!”

“The Jilin statue and the manuscript are clearly tied together,” I said slowly, watching Paen as he paced. He was thinking like mad, too. “You never heard reference to a statue when you researched the manuscript?”

“No, never. That's why I'm so surprised now—I've never seen mention of any other object in connection to it. But the coincidences are too striking to not mean something. Just what, though, I'm afraid I don't know.”

“Mr. Race might know how they're related.”

“Yes, he may well. He seems to be the mysterious figure behind a number of things,” Paen said.

I glanced at the clock. “It's a little after two—is that too early to drop in on him?” I asked the room in general.

“I think we should,” Clare said, getting off Finn's lap. “Right now! Client or not, it would serve him right if he's been hiding something from us.”

“The sooner we can talk to him—and get the statue back—the better for Sam and Mum,” Finn said, getting to his feet as well. “I say let's do it.”

“No. Sam needs rest,” Paen declared, stopping in front of me. I looked up to his face. His eyes were
glittering brightly, and not just with concern. “She's been through hell tonight. A few hours' rest won't make a difference to Mum or the
Coda
, but will do much to help Sam recover.”

His scent teased me almost as much as his warmth and light attracted me. I got to my feet with languid grace that was only partially due to weakness, a slow smile on my lips. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“But—” Finn started to protest.

Paen's hand was warm on my back as he gave me a gentle shove toward my bedroom. “Sam needs time,” he said. “We owe her that much.”

The door to my bedroom closed on Finn's protests. I flipped on the light and frowned. The jungle of plants that inhabited my room looked more like a wasteland blighted by some horrific pesticide. Everywhere I looked were dried, brown fronds drooping lifelessly over the sides of containers, dead stems standing stiff and brittle, and spotted yellow and brown leaves carpeting the floor so completely that it was almost invisible.

“It appears my plants don't approve of the new me,” I said as I stepped over a sagging palm frond.

“So it would seem,” Paen said, watching me as he leaned against the door.

“What's it going to be?” I asked, striking a pose next to a draped swatch of mosquito netting. “Fucking or lovemaking?”

“Which do you prefer?” he asked, his face unreadable.

I shrugged. “Doesn't matter to me. I enjoy both.”

That got him moving. He strolled across the
detritus of plants to where I stood, wrapping one hand around my neck, his thumb brushing my pulse point. “Sam, I know what it's like. I lived as you are now for almost three hundred years. But you were right when you told me there was more than just sexual gratification to be had from a relationship.”

He was so warm, so alive, the light of being shining so brightly from him I just wanted to rub against him like a cat and bask in its rays.

“Remember how it was,” he said softly, his hand caressing my neck now. “Don't let that memory slip away. Hang on to what you felt with me before.”

Inside me, the howling wind rose until my eyes burned with tears. “I don't want to live this way, Paen. I hurt inside. I feel so . . . distant. Separated. Alone.”

You have me, sweetheart
, he said as I wrapped my arms around his waist. His arms closed around me and I drank in the glorious warmth that emanated from him, both physically and spiritually.
I won't let you go, Sam. You managed to find a way into my cold, bleak heart, and I'm not going to let you leave me now.

You say the nicest things
, I said, burrowing myself closer to him.
But there's way too much talking going on here, and not nearly enough lovemaking.

His lips closed over mine in the sweetest kiss it was possible for me to imagine.
Made your mind up, then?

Yes. I want you to make love to me, Paen. I want you to show me again just what a wonderful thing we have together. I want you to remind me how beautiful your new soul is. I want you to save me from this coldness inside. Love me, Paen. Please, love me.

The tenderness with which he disrobed me, kissing every inch of skin exposed, almost undid me. But I decided equal time was only fair, so I concentrated on making him squirm with want as I removed his clothes.

“I thought I was supposed to be making love to you,” he said, his voice strained as I cupped both hands around his erection.

“We're taking turns.” I flicked my tongue in his ear and bit the lobe gently, suddenly pulling back in surprise. “Paen?”

“Not really, no, more of an ache, a good ache, but if you continue to stroke me like that, I'm not sure I'll last.”

I let go of his penis and blinked a couple of times before saying, “Heh. Joke. Kiss me.”

His eyes lit with mingled humor and arousal. “Ah, you wish to role-play? Normally I prefer to be the aggressor, but if it will please you, I suppose I can give in to your demands.”

The touch of his mouth on mine sent familiar zings of pleasure through me, heightening my anticipation of the moment when I would taste his desire. I couldn't wait and slipped my tongue into his mouth, teasing his until it followed mine back into my mouth.

“Ow!” His head snapped back in surprise.

“It just happened,” I said, running my tongue carefully over the unexpected sharp, elongated points of my canine teeth. “When I bit your ear, suddenly these . . . they just were there. Where did they come from? Why do I have them? I thought you said I didn't have to drink blood? Can I get rid of them or
am I stuck with them? What am I going to tell people?”

He laughed, pulling me close against him, kissing me again, but carefully this time. “You're Moravian now, sweetheart. You have the sharp canines because you can, if you choose to, drink blood. Your body will process it and use it as fuel just as it does food. Your body is low on blood now, and wants you to take in more. That's why they manifested—you can pull them back if they bother you, otherwise they will be gone when your body no longer craves blood.”

“But why did they pop out now?” I asked, flinching when the point of one of my new fangs pierced my tongue. A bead of blood welled up, sharp with a copper taste, no different from any other time I'd bitten my tongue.

“Sexual arousal is closely linked to bloodlust. Your body is craving both from me. Do you want me to feed you?”

“Blood?” I asked, half repulsed, half intrigued by the idea. “I don't know—it's never been anything that's attracted me, but . . .” I stopped, unable to put the strange new feelings I felt into words. My blood did nothing for me, nor did I particularly enjoy the drop of Paen's blood I'd tasted when we Joined, but now the thought of taking into me his life force was strangely compelling.

“It's an acquired taste,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “Why don't we give you a little taste without demanding too much?” He nipped the tip of his finger until a couple of drops shone vermilion against his skin.

“Ready?” he asked, giving me his finger.

I eyed the blood on it. “I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this,” I grumbled, but took the tip of his finger into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it, the drops of blood spreading quickly. There was no bitterness, no coppery blood taste—just a spicy, heavy flavor reminiscent of mulled wine.
Oh! It doesn't taste like mine at all. This is good! Is this what it's like for you, too?

Only with you, love
, he answered, gently pulling his finger from my mouth.

“Why only with me?” I asked, licking my lips, the taste of him still lingering. A need for more rose inside me with a roar that almost drowned out the endless howl of torment that the loss of my soul had left, but I fought it down, forcing the fangs back into normal canines. Paen was hungry, too, and couldn't afford to lose blood any more than I could.

“You're my Beloved. Your blood is like ambrosia to me.”

“Oh,” I said, flattered. I stepped back to the bed, assuming a seductive position in the middle of it. “I'm sorry I can't be your smorgasbord tonight. I can feel how hungry you are. But perhaps we can take your mind off of that for a little bit?”

“That, sweetheart, won't be difficult to do.” The bed dipped as he joined me, kneeling next to me. “I believe it's my turn again, yes?”

“Oh yes,” I said, letting him roll me onto my back, pulling my legs so my calves rested alongside his thighs. I wanted to caress the arousal that waved so happily at me, but lay back when he ordered me to stop distracting him.

“You're bossy,” I said, squirming as his head
dipped down and he swirled his tongue around my belly button.

“Yes, and you like it.”

“Not really.” His tongue licked a path up toward my breasts. “Oh, all right, just a little.”

“Just a little, hmm? So if I were to tell you that I was going to suck your delicious breasts until you were on the verge of coming, at which point I concentrated my attentions on those highly sensitive ears of yours, what would you do?”

“Breasts,” I gasped, digging my fingers into his shoulders and pulling him forward. “Ears! Right now!”

“And who is the bossy one now?” he asked just before taking the tip of an aching breast into his mouth. His hand slid over to my other breast, his fingers ignoring everything but the tight nipple that was demanding equal time. I'd never thought my breasts were particularly sensitive before, but the feeling of his hot mouth and dancing tongue changed my mind. He sucked, he licked, he teased and tasted and tormented until I was writhing beneath him, wave after wave of pleasure rocking my body.