Sanctifying Grace (Resurrection) (13 page)

I shooed the vampire away. Enough was enough, and Roman backed off, once more hiding his true nature.

‘Look at me,’ I urged, but the child shook his head. A stain spread over the front of his pyjamas.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ I cried. ‘Go get him some clean clothes.’

Roman stared at the child dispassionately. For all his observation of the human race, I suspected he had little to do with children. Roman frowned, but did as I asked and found some clean pyjamas. He threw them at my feet.

‘A little urine won’t harm him, but if you insist on his changing then you can see to it.’

Sometimes Roman’s vampireness simply got on my nerves. I snatched the fresh clothing and bent to untie the boy, saddened that all the fight had drained out of him. He was reduced to a terrified child and I hated myself and Roman for what we had done to him.

I turned my back as he stripped off his soiled pyjama bottoms and stepped into the clean pair. Roman tied him to his chair again. All the while the boy avoided our eyes.

I knelt in front of him. ‘What’s your name?’ I repeated.

‘Gerald.’ His voice was no more than a murmur.

‘We’re not going to hurt you.’ I ignored Roman’s snort of temper. ‘We just need to stay here for a few hours, and then we’ll be on our way. Do you understand? No one is going to hurt you.’

‘As long as you behave yourself,’ Roman added.

Gerald flicked a petrified glance at the vampire, then turned large, frightened eyes on me. I tried to smile reassuringly.

‘We need to talk,’ Roman said. ‘Leave him here and go into the sitting room.’

‘Why, what are you going to do?’

‘Ever the suspicious one, Eryres. I am going to replace the gag.’

I had seen what he was capable of. No one could blame me for being suspicious. Apparently Roman could. He was cold and distant when he joined me in the cramped living room. He pointedly sat in the chair, ignoring my unspoken invitation for him to join me on the settee.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Yes. You need to know.’ His face was a marble mask, pale and inscrutable in the faint glow from the street lights. He kept his voice low and I strained to hear him. ‘Throughout our histories humans have hunted vampires, afraid of what they don’t understand, labelling us as undead and evil. Rarely has it bothered us, and more often than not we have eliminated our enemies, or faded into the night. It has been this way for millennia, but eventually humans became more organised in their hatred for us and a society was formed, its purpose to seek us out and destroy us until there are no more vampires left on this earth. They have not been unduly successful. Until now.’

‘What’s changed?’

He drew a deep breath. ‘The society calls itself The Brotherhood of Blood and, so far, have only admitted a select group of believers into their midst. A handful of these men exist in Britain, France, and other countries, and they are secretive, operating outside of governments and religion. We can only assume they do not wish to alarm people, or perhaps they will be thought of as mad for believing vampires are real. The fact that we kill them when we find them is also an incentive for them to hide. We do not enthral the ones that are susceptible because it only reinforces the conviction of the rest that we exist, as their comrades see the changes we wrought in them. It has been this way for centuries, but recently there are disturbing reports coming out of a country in Europe. The Brotherhood of Blood has been infiltrated by a group of men whose aim is not to destroy us, although they do that, too, but to capture us. They have not succeeded because they do not know how; it is a myth that vampires can be rendered weak by silver, and they have discovered no other method.’

‘Is there a way?’

‘No. Vampires are too strong, too fast, and humans can only kill not capture.’

‘How?’

‘Fire is one, guns another.’

‘Is that who was hunting us?’

‘Yes. There are five of them. There were seven but I destroyed two. I will destroy the remainder, eventually. However, they are cunning and careful. They stay together and there are always two on guard. It is not worth the risk to confront them when they can so easily be avoided.’

‘So why-?’ I began, then I realised: Roman stayed here because of me. He returned to Brecon every spring in the hope that I would appear, and it was this predicable behaviour that put him at risk. If anything happened to him, I would be to blame.

‘We are safe here, for the present. I have never been in any danger, but you are fragile and as long as you are with me, you could be harmed. I will look for another place for us as soon as it is light.’

‘But you don’t like daylight.’

‘I don’t like it, but I can walk in it.’ He smirked. ‘The Brotherhood of Blood doesn’t know that, though.’

I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece: four fifty five. It would be light in an hour or so.

‘I will need to drink again before I set out.’

‘Don’t take too much,’ I warned, offering my neck to him.

‘Thank you, but no. I have a willing donor upstairs, and if I drink from you it would inevitably lead to more than taking your blood.’

I grimaced. Although I would love to make love with him, now was not the time or place. I thought of Gerald in the kitchen.

‘What happens to the boy?’

‘When we are ready to leave, I will put him back in his room, and threaten him with an agonising death if he ever reveals our presence.

‘That won’t work!’

‘Of course not, but his mother won’t believe him. I will drop hints that we are spies or fugitives from the law and there is nothing to make him think of vampires. She will say he has had a vivid dream, and if by any chance The Brotherhood gets to hear of it, we will be long gone.’

I thought about being long gone and remembered what had happened back in my own time just before I appeared in Roman’s.

I told him about Lettuce.

He was thoughtful as he replied, ‘Lettuce, Leticia, is playing an active role in my research. She, like all of our kind,’ he gave a quiet laugh, ‘is fascinated by blood, but not purely for sustenance. She, too, wants to discover the secrets behind our need to drink human blood.’ He thought again. ‘Perhaps I am going to set her to watch over you. I cannot do this myself, so easily: the links between the past, present and future are too closely entwined for me to risk tampering with. I have kept my promise to you to stay away from your ancestors and I will not interfere in your life until our respective times coincide.’

He stood and stretched and I watched the muscles ripple and bulge under his plain white shirt. ‘I will speak with Leticia and reiterate my desire for you not to be harmed.’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Ianto. She’s got her claws into him and it doesn’t look like she’s going to let go anytime soon. And I’m scared what she’ll do if he guesses her nature.’

‘Does he know? Have you told him?’

There was no point in my lying: Roman would be able to tell, so I gathered my courage and said, ‘Yes, he knows. I had to explain the marks on my neck, and then when I was badly beaten before they tried to burn me at the stake…’ I broke out in goose-bumps just thinking about it, ghostly smoke filling my nostrils, remembered heat warming the soles of my feet. ‘He’s not convinced, though. He thinks it’s all in my head, in spite of the smell of smoke in my hair and the broken bones. I don’t blame him – even I have trouble believing it and I’m living it!

‘It is not good that he knows. You should not have told him.’ Roman wasn’t angry: I had seen him angry, and this wasn’t it, but he wasn’t best pleased, either.

‘If he hadn’t have helped me, driven me to London so I had time to heal, then I may have ended up in the hospital and I probably wouldn’t have come out again, or at least, not returned home. I would most likely have been sent to a hospice, or a psychiatric ward, and I don’t think there’s one of those in Brecon. I would have never seen you again,’

‘You may be right, but it is dangerous for your brother to have this knowledge.’

‘I know,’ I replied, miserably.

Ianto was so close to Lettuce, so emotionally involved with her, he just might decide to confide in her, get a second opinion on my state of mind. If he gave the impression he thought I was insane he just might be ok
ay, but if he gave any indication he thought there was some truth in my fantastic story…

‘Leticia must be enthralling him. I see no other way for her to keep her secret from him. Even though we have had centuries in which to perfect hiding what we are, we cannot be really close to a human and they not guess there is something very wrong about us – wrong from a human’s point of view, that is,’ he amended. ‘She must be enthralling him. Has she bitten him?’

‘I don’t think so. I haven’t seen any bite marks.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ he said, dryly. ‘We know not to leave wounds where they can easily be seen.’ He sighed. ‘It is too far in the future to do anything about. Just be careful around her when you return to your own time,’ he warned. ‘This reminds me: what of Jeremiah? Have you seen or heard of him since he enthralled you?’

I shook my head. Ianto hadn’t seen him for some time, either, and I had all but put the thought of him out of my head.

‘He knows I seek him and he is avoiding me. I would dearly like to have a little talk with him.’ Roman’s canines were suddenly longer and sharper, and I shivered. I didn’t want to consider what Roman’s ‘little talk’ might entail.

He went upstairs and came back down a short time later looking rosier and glossy. I knew what he had done and couldn’t fault him for it. He did what he had to do. He left shortly after and retuned within the hour.

‘I’ve found us a place we can stay,’ he said. ‘It’s in town, not too far. Once I’ve settled you in I’ll find somewhere to spend the rest of the day.’

Then he took the boy back to his own room. I hoped he didn’t scare him too much.

We had scant minutes to get out of the house before Gerald raised the alarm, and as soon as Roman’s foot hit the bottom stair I was out through the back door with the vampire hot on my heels.

The town was coming to slow life as we hurried though it and I was thankful that it was too early for my interesting attire to be noticed. I was wearing men’s clothes and a pair of black wellies. Roman didn’t look much better in his ‘borrowed’ trousers that were inches too small for him, still-wet shoes, and dirty shirt. We had stashed my (his) jacket in a dustbin. No point in carrying it with us.

He led me east down the main street, and didn’t slow his pace until we were almost out of the other side of Brecon, near to the army barracks. He stopped in front of a large Victorian house, fished a key out of the pocket of his trousers and unlocked the door.

‘Whose is it?’

‘Mine.’

‘Yours? Why didn’t we come here last night?’

‘It was occupied.’

By whom?’

‘No one you need concern yourself with.’

He clearly wasn’t going to say anything further on the subject, so I stepped inside and hoped Roman hadn’t scared his occupants away.

The hall was dim and dingy, smelling of mice and mould, and as I turned to tell him he needed to take better care of his property, I realised just how close he was. Very, very close. Deliciously close. I was aware of a tension, a tautness stemming from him and I knew he had fulfilled one need rather recently, so this must be an altogether different need. He wanted me.

His cool breath was on my face as his head bent to mine, his mouth finding my lips, his teeth grazing me as he kissed me, hard.

I kissed him back with the same urgency. His hands were on my breasts, my shirt open at the front and his fingers tweaked my nipples, stroking and kneading until I panted with a hunger of my own.

My hands scrabbled to undo his trousers so I could join in the fun, and once I had freed him from the restraining fabric, he lifted me high and entered me in one deep, smooth thrust. My legs were around his waist, my back against the wall, and his hands held my buttocks, supporting my weight, pulling me ever wider as he drove into me relentlessly.

I came, shuddering, calling his name, and my climax triggered his and he exploded with a satisfied yell.

He held me for a while, his face buried in my neck, breathing in the scent of the blood surging just below my skin, then he gently lowered my legs to the floor. I stood, as wobbly as a newborn colt. He laughed at me, ready to go again.

I wanted food, and I told him so.

He showed me into the kitchen and I was relieved to find it serviceable.

‘You want to eat, then you sort yourself out,’ he stated. ‘I don’t cook.’

I didn’t expect him to and I happily rooted through the cupboards and the pantry, gathering together enough ingredients to make a cheese, ham and mushroom omelette.

Roman watched me work, leaning nonchalantly against the table, legs and arms crossed. I stole sneaky looks at him, marvelling anew at his gorgeousness.  His hair, thick and lustrous, hung about his face, loose and shining and I wondered how easily he blended into 1930s Britain.

‘I tell them I’m American,’ he said when I asked. ‘They expect Americans to be wild and decadent.’