Sips of Blood (16 page)

"Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking
of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man
who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the
enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the
inevitable."

The Marquis de Sade, in a letter to his wife.

Chapter 29

The confused Garrett had heard the fight. He
had heard the breaking of bones, but had not viewed the scene. He
knew, though, that
La Maîtresse
whimpered now, and he could
not go to her.

His armpits ached from the taut way in which
he had been tied to the Eton bench. His legs he could barely feel.
His stomach ached from the pressure of the bench. His buttocks
stung. And he needed water to help bring back the saliva to his
mouth.

Until
Maîtresse
had interrupted them,
he had been flying on a wave of elation, spinning in a heaven of
euphoria. This man, Sade or whoever he was, knew how to mete out
pain. Satisfied his slave before thinking of himself, unlike
Letcher. Briefly from a corner of his eye he had seen the man
licking a bloodied finger. To whom had the blood belonged? Garrett
hoped it had been his own, for he had wanted a very personal bond
to be formed with the man.

He heard no movement, only the soft whimpers
of a woman crying. Of
La Maîtresse
crying. Crying over
spilled blood. Garrett heard the humor in the phrase but could not
smile. He tried to form words.
I wanted this. I enjoyed
this.
The words came out only as incomprehensible guttural
sounds. The words defied his
Maîtresse
and brought shame to
his soul.

* * *

Marie's fingers throbbed as she tried to move
them. She used the back of one hand to feel the broken cheekbone.
Sunken in. The touch sparked a flame of outrageous pain. Her
fingers hung limp and useless. She could not even untie Garrett.
Did she want to untie Garrett?

The smell of his blood sent the top of her
body reeling in a circular motion. Sade had tasted of this one's
blood in front of her. Had Sade taken blood from Garrett earlier?
Had she interrupted Sade before he could?

Marie got to her knees and slowly crawled to
where Garrett waited on the Bench. When she drew closer, she saw
among Garrett's new wounds the yellow tinge of week-old bruises.
She had not caused them.

Voici your medicine.
Sade's words held
truth. There is her medicine. Her cure for the bones broken and the
bruises caused by Sade's wrath. Garrett's blood would hasten the
healing of her body. Garrett's blood would make her stronger.

"Voici",
she whispered, stretching out
her neck to bring her lips closer to Garrett's flesh. Closer but
not within reach.

The cure or the bane? she wondered.

Long ago she had forced Sade to give her
this... not life, but a strange compromise with death. She had
starved him of blood in prisons and would have let him die at the
hands of the French peasants. How magnificent it would have been to
watch his head bounce into the basket of the guillotine. She, of
course, would have had to be in disguise amidst the mob; still, he
would have been dead. She would have stolen his head and gouged his
eyes out, racked at his brains, and then set the mess afire. But he
had offered her the same immortality he had
if
she would
free him. Yes, she saved him from the mob, but no, she could not
bring herself to turn the monster free to go back to her daughter
and grandchildren. She forced the animal into an insane asylum,
where he learned of his true strength and eventually feigned his
death.

Thank God her daughter, Reneé, had died in a
convent before he could reach her.

Garrett's gurgling noises distracted her, and
she moved to where his flushed face could be seen. Could he even
see her? There is nothing you can offer him, Marie, she thought to
herself. He smelled of blood, sweat, semen, and feces. Odors that
mingled, and yet the scent of blood seemed singled out by her
senses. She knew the taste of this blood. It had always been clean,
healthy blood, blood she could dream of during her long respites.
However, now it seemed tinged by a budding germ, not a simple cold.
No, something heavier, muskier. Something possibly terminal.
Something Sade had given him? No, vampires did not carry germs.
Diseases could not survive in a vampire's dead body. Bereft of
nutrition, the disease died shortly after entering the vampire's
body. Sade could not pass on anything living to Garrett. And the
disease flourished in Garrett's blood.

Poor Garrett didn't know, couldn't know as
yet, but unless something else happened to him, he would find
out.

Voici is your medicine.
A medicine
marked with an expiration date.
Use before the man with the
scythe claims him.

Marie ached. Marie's eyes slowly closed. Yes,
she needed sleep. Her coffin awaited upstairs on the second floor.
It had been relined with a soft peach satin, although the home soil
still supported her body. Sleep would bring back the freshness of
her skin and bones. She dreaded the preamble to sleep. She always
did, but especially now. Her body each day would semi-decay into
the soil to be rejuvenated. Her wounds would make the decay more
intense. The decay would spread to a greater portion of her body,
and as it did, the smell would frighten her. The decay always made
her sleep uneasy, and the decay seemed to worsen with the
centuries. Always on awakening she would be whole. The staleness
would still be there inside the box, but that she could escape for
at least a while.

Garrett gurgled some more. What did he want,
she wondered. To be freed? To be beaten? To be fed upon?

She bent her head back and looked up into his
eyes. Glassy pupils stared back at her. The whites of his eyes held
a network of intersecting red blood vessels.

"Can a future be told by studying one's blood
vessels, Garrett? I think I see your future." Delicately she
brought her hands up so that he could see them. "My hands cannot
rescue you."

"Chauffeur" he hoarsely said.

"My integrity cannot save you either. You
were my most obedient slave. The most willing and giving. My
favorite until..."

* * *

No! He did not want to hear these words.
My favorite until... La Maîtresse
never finished the
sentence. It wasn't necessary, because he had known all along. She
had sent him away to make room for another.

His blood no longer nourished her fantasies.
Instead she had thrown him aside like a used condom filled with
spoiled desire.

He looked at her damaged face and knew he
would never see her again. He wished for a strong
Maîtresse
who could command and be obeyed.

Sade had diminished her. Perhaps the ghost of
the real Marquis de Sade had taken over the man's body.

"Sade," he whispered and watched
Maîtresse'
s eyes harden.

"Sade," he whispered again, because he wanted
to see that hate shine in
La Maîtresse's
eyes one more
time.

* * *

"Sade is a strong-willed child, a demanding
bully who will never grow up."

She used the back of her right hand to wipe
away the sweat dripping into Garrett's eyes. It was not clear what
color his eyes were, and she felt ashamed that she couldn't recall.
Weakly she lay back on the floor to stare up at Garrett.
Careful, Marie, fall asleep here and the body will not
recuperate.
Instead she would wake weaker, without her soil to
replenish with her native minerals.

"You have family, don't you, Garrett? A wife,
children. You never told me how many children. You have people to
return to at home. It would be foolish to use you as my medicine,
Garrett. I would have to flee. Inconvenient, given that my casket
needs to be specially packed, with me stored safely inside it."

* * *

Maîtresse speaks of death as if it were
upon her.
Could she be hurt far more than he thought?

Garrett's body throbbed with pain. He saw
La Maîtresse,
and then she disappeared into the dark, for
how long he did not know. But then she appeared again. The same
mutilated face, the same brown eyes that had nourished his
obsession. Her voice seemed softer, kinder. Too kind.
Where is
her strength?
Her upper lip started to swell. He thought he saw
the lip pulse.

Fear paced his pain. Hate weakened his
spirit. Still, he caught glimpses of her, briefer now. The coldness
of her body chilled his sweating flesh. He smelled waste, his own
brought on by the torture.

Only
La Maîtresse
and he existed,
bound together in a spiralling darkness that would take them
both.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Garrett." She had just realized
that she would never be able to make it back to her coffin before
passing out. "I'm so sorry, Garrett. I sent you away to save you.
Now I must have you."

She lifted her head to kiss him on the mouth.
Pain passed between them. She glided her body from under his and
stood.

The wounds on his buttucks had clotted. As
she bent down to look more closely at his wounds, her fangs
automatically pushed out from between her lips. Touching the
wounds, her teeth bit into the young scabs on his flesh and he bled
anew. Her tongue lolled across the blood. She heard her own little
lapping sounds. Evidently Garrett had heard also, for he squeaked
out a "Thank you."

No, thank you,
she thought and would
have said, only she couldn't draw her tongue back from the
blood.

The tension in her body began to ease.

No, thank you, Garrett, for the gift of your
life.

Chapter 30

Liliana fed her pets. The rabbit her uncle
had given her had become more docile. A raccoon with singed fur
licked her hand as she put down his dish. She had saved him from
one of her uncle's temper tantrums. Minerva, the eighteen-year-old
cat, yawned and plopped her fat body down for a delicate meal of
sardines.

These were animals she didn't have the heart
to feed from. The others, the mélange of rats, mice, hamsters, and
ferrets, she kept apart in an enclosed shack that had little light
but was kept clean. The animals were so small that she had to drain
several at one sitting, or perhaps, as she would put it, standing.
Often she would stand in the shadows of the woods at twilight and
swiftly wring the neck of her chosen meal, suck the animal dry, and
discard the corpse quickly among the trees. What she didn't eat
scavengers would pick at.

"Miss?"

"Yes, Matilda."

"There's a young man here asking to see you.
His name is David Petry."

"Oh!"

"I'm ready to leave for the day. Is there
anything you'd like me to do first?"

"Is my uncle home?"

"I haven't seen him all day. Would you like
me to wait around until your business with Mr. Petry is
finished?"

"No. Go on home, Matilda."

Liliana noticed the relief in Matilda's
expression. She hadn't wanted to stay another minute. Matter of
fact, she had already slipped off her apron and stood in the
doorway holding her pocketbook and vinyl tote.

As the two women said goodbye, Liliana caught
a glimpse of David Petry waiting in the salon. His build seemed
almost identical to Stuart's, and he paced with the same nervous
energy that the young soldier had possessed.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Petry?" Liliana
drew her shoulders back and walked with a forced indifference.

"Mr. Sade said that you would have some
papers for me." He walked to where she stood and then retreated
three steps.

"My uncle didn't give me anything for you.
Are you sure you were not supposed to see him directly?" Of course
not; this was another try at getting her to drink fresh human
blood. If she hadn't taken Stuart's blood, whatever made Sade think
she would rob this young man of his life?

"I feel awkward, but I'm sure of what he told
me."

"My uncle is not at home right now, so it's
impossible to ask him; however, I'll remind him of this tonight."
She certainly would.

David started for the door.

"Mr. Petry!"

He turned quickly.

"David, please."

"Then you may call me Liliana. My uncle is
trying to hook us up."
Why the hell had she said that?

"You mean like in dating?"

"It goes beyond that."

"I'm honored that he would consider me as a
potential boyfriend."

"You wouldn't be if you understood his
motive."

"Nothing so petty as to have me encourage you
to eat rabbit, I hope?"

"Nothing
so
petty."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now.
Ask you out? Smile? Say I understand and then gracefully leave?
What do you think I should do?"

"Whatever your emotions lead you to do."

"Is that an invitation to ask you out or an
objective view of the situation?"

"Both."

David smiled broadly. His shoulders relaxed,
and he heaved a great sigh.

"In that case, why don't we humor your uncle
and go to dinner this Friday evening?"

Liliana turned her back on David. Curiosity
kept making her want to see where the similarities between Stuart
and David ended. Most probably she could sit through one date
without jumping David's carotid.

"My job is close to the city, so why don't I
meet you in the city at the Four Seasons Grill?"

David cleared his throat.

"Sure."