The Maestro's Maker (5 page)

magic.”

I closed my eyes, vaguely relieved I was not dying. Gunnar picked me up and placed

me into the bed. I groaned and begged him to leave me alone, told him he was killing me.

He soon settled down to read, but I kept worrying the idea of being in phase. It meant

something to me, something important. It was hard to think through the nausea and pain

in my gut. But finally, I got it. My heart pounded furiously. This was it, the thing I had

been waiting for. I knew this was how I could save the handsome Frenchman and myself.

If I couldn’t find a savior to take me home, I could make one. And what better champion

than my own countryman?

30

31

The plan I finally devised the following morning, when I felt better, involved stealing

Gunnar’s razor.

30

31

It would be difficult to get near Claude-Michel. I considered seducing him, but I was

no seductress. Kissing his neck so I could bite him would have to be the impetuous action

of a girl who was already too close, and shaving him would give me that excuse, as well

as getting him too aroused to refuse.

I did not have a plan for what was to happen after that, except that I would have to

keep Gunnar out of the hold for several days. That would be next to impossible, as he

was growing bored with the priest. That meant he would kill him soon, and go into the

hold for another toy to play with. Any little thing could wreck my plan, and then Gunnar

would probably kill us all.

But it was better than living on that cursed ship forever, having watched Claude-

Michel suffer the terrible fate of being Gunnar’s plaything. I would have rather died

myself than see that.

The time came suddenly, two nights after my last attempt to feed. Gunnar turned the

page of the book he was reading, made a face, and put it down. He swung his legs off the

side of the bed and walked over to the corner where the young man lay huddled. “Time

to meet your maker, Father,” he said.

Predictably, the young man began to whimper and pray. I told myself I couldn’t save

everyone, and forced it out of my mind. Finally, they were gone. I leapt up, ignoring the

feeling of nausea and the ache in my head that came with imagining Gunnar spilling the

man’s blood, and went to his toilette. The razor was out in plain view. I made sure it was

closed, shoved it into my boot, and left.

Because the ship’s cook was a kind man who liked me, I was able to get plates of

meat and bread for Claude-Michel, François and Jean, instead of gruel. François opened

his eyes but did not appear to see me, or the meal I placed beside him. Jean stared at his

and sniffed. Claude-Michel watched me. “To what do we owe this banquet?” he asked,

32

33

his voice tight.

“Eat first,” I said. “Then I will shave you all.” My heart beat much too quickly.

Claude-Michel brightened, then nodded. “Would you care to join us?” he asked.

Somewhere in the shadows, a rat squealed, making me jump. “No. Thank you,

Monsieur
,” I said.

“What makes you decide to bring the razor, hmm?” he asked, and began to eat.

“You’re very handsome,” I answered, hoping against hope he didn’t see how nervous

I was. “I noticed in the beginning, when you first came, how handsome you were.

Especially with your violin.”

He nodded again. “
Merci, cherie
, but I will not be so handsome, I am afraid, when

your Gunnar throws my entrails into the sea.”

The image made my spirits sink. “Don’t say such things.”

I sat on the floor nearby, watching them. For a long time, no one spoke. Then, for some

reason, I said, “My daughter, Annabelle, was four years old. The day before Gunnar’s

men came, she brought me a little purple flower. She said, ‘Here, Mama. Pretty like you.’

The baby was named for my husband, Philippe. He was a good man. Strong. But when

the pirates came…” My throat closed around the words and tears came, but I wiped them

away. “They killed him.”

I tried not to sniff, but it was impossible. I wanted to show Claude-Michel vulnerability

so he would trust me. I did not let myself think about what sort of life I was about to

commit him to. At least, I reasoned, it would be a life.

Claude-Michel slowed his eating and listened.

I took a deep breath and tried to laugh, swiping a palm over my eyes and cheeks. “I

tried to kill them when they hurt my babies. I tried. But then, I became afraid, and I ran.

I should have made them finish me right there. This is Hell, this…remembering.”

Claude-Michel swallowed too much, and coughed. “Perhaps there is something more

for you still, some love you have not imagined, hm?”

I pretended not to hear. I could not afford to think about things like that, if what I was

32

33

about to do may get both of us killed—or make Claude-Michel hate me forever.

Finally, he pushed away the plate. “I am ready,” he said. He kept his eyes on me as I

reached into my boot and drew out the blade. I went to him. For many moments, I could

only stand there, looking down at him, very aware both Jean and Claude-Michel watched

me intently. I wondered if I could go through with it.

“Well?” Claude-Michel asked. “Are you going to groom me or slit my throat?”

That brought me back. “I’m stronger than you,” I said. “So don’t try to do

anything.”

“As you wish,” he answered.

Claude-Michel relaxed his hands on the floor and allowed the chains to go slack. I

placed a boot on either side of his hips and lowered myself onto his lap. I felt embarrassed.

I had never seduced a man before. “Very nice,” he said.

“What?” I asked, alarmed.

“It’s a very good perfume,” Claude-Michel said. “There are not many pleasant smells

in here, as you know.”

I nodded and opened the blade, watching him carefully. Then, when I felt satisfied he

wasn’t going to try to kill me, I took his chin in my hand and turned his head to the side.

In spite of the chains he moved quickly, and caught my wrists in his hands.

I met his eyes. “I cannot shave you unless you release me.”

“I would rather shave myself,” he said, attempting to pry my fingers from the razor’s

handle with his other hand. He could not.

“No,
Monsieur
. I will not give you the blade. And if you continue trying to take

advantage of me I will go away and continue bringing you only gruel, and let you grow a

hairy face like a madman until you die. It is a little comfort or none at all.”

“Interesting,” he muttered to my hand, as though he hadn’t heard a word I said.

“Perhaps the poison weakened me more than I realized.”

“Yes,” I said. “Perhaps. But I would like to make you feel like the man you are, not

some animal in a cage. Now please,
Monsieur
, let me do what I came here to do.”

34

35

He gave me a piercing look before dropping his hands to the ground and closing his

eyes with a sigh. “At this point,
Mademoiselle
, I doubt it matters very much what you

do.”

“You did request that I shave you,” I reminded him, maneuvering myself on his lap.

“If you continue to sit in this manner I will request something else as well,” he said.

“I am not so talented to do both at the same time,
Monsieur
,” I said, and placed the

blade against his cheek. I had to close my mouth tight. I was becoming aroused, and my

fangs were starting to grow, in spite of the nausea that came with imagining how his

blood would taste. It did not help that I felt the flesh between his legs move beneath me.

God, how I wanted this man.

Claude-Michel closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. I tried distracting myself

with conversation. “Gunnar says the perfume is from the East. He has been everywhere.

He is very old.”

Claude-Michel let out his breath slowly.

“You’re clenching your face,
Monsieur
. Please try to relax.”

“My apologies,” he said stiffly. “This is very nice.”

It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking. I was afraid he would notice,

and know I had a plan. I didn’t think he would enjoy knowing I was a vampire, or that I

intended to make him one as well.

When I had finished, Claude-Michel’s face was still rough, but the beard was gone.

When I examined my work, I could see he how handsome he was.

“
Merci
,” he said, and for a moment I thought he could hear my thoughts.

“You’re welcome,” I answered, allowing my desire for him to show through, and

leaning forward for a kiss.

“Well,” he said. “It seems the lady can’t resist my charms.”

“Don’t speak,” I said, and moved my hips against him. I wondered if he could feel the

desperation in my touch. He raised his hands to grasp my derrière as my lips met his.

He returned the kiss briefly before turning his head. “I could be of better service,

34

35

Mademoiselle
, if my limbs were free.”

I could tell he felt frustrated. Claude-Michel was not a man who enjoyed being at the

mercy of others, even those trying to give him pleasure. I persisted, and held his jaw in

place while nibbling his lip.

“
Mademoiselle
…”

“You will be free,” I whispered, flicking my tongue against the corner of his mouth.

“I promise.” I moved my moist lips to his jaw, prickly where the razor had ripped at

the beard stubble. His body stiffened as I probed his throat with my tongue. He gave an

irritated sigh and took my arms in his hands, but was unable to move me much. I ignored

the nausea raging through my gut and dug into the ground with my knees before forcing

his head to the side.

Then I opened my mouth, and slid my teeth into his flesh.

I made my body rigid and closed my eyes tight, holding him against the wall. “What?”

he cried and tried to throw me off of him. The taste of his blood made my guts lurch. I

wanted to throw up, but I had to hold on, even though I knew I was hurting him. I had to

save this man so he could save me.

Within moments, it was done. I stood up. His head lolled to the side as he tried to

look at me. He spoke nonsense like a drunken man and could not pick up his hands from

where they lay beside him, palms up. The last thing I wanted to do was bite another man,

but I wanted to give Claude-Michel his friend, who was close to dying if something

wasn’t done. So I grasped the chains dangling from François’ wrists in one hand and held

them as I mounted him. Ignoring his weak, fevered struggles, I took a wad of his golden

hair in my hand, forced his head to the side and lowered my mouth to his throat. “Shh,”

I said. “This will only hurt a little.”

When it was over I saw that Jean watched me with wide eyes. He seemed unable

to speak. When I crouched in front of him, he shrank away. “You will be food for your

master,” I said. “And we will all be free of this madman.”

36

37

I hoped to find Gunnar gone so that I could return his razor, but he was instead

sprawled across the bed with his hands clasped atop his abdomen. I watched his breathing

for several seconds to see if he was asleep. I decided he was, and hurried toward the

toilette.

“Chloe.”

When he spoke my name, I felt as though my entire body was on fire. I turned, hating

the sound of it in his mouth. “Yes, Captain?”

“Come over here.”

I hesitated. “I have to relieve myself,” I said, which was not a complete lie.

He opened his eyes. “I guessed that already. Come over here now.”

I wasn’t sure whether my heart lurched because of the possibility of discovery or

because of his tone, but I obeyed quickly, as always. “Yes, Captain,” I murmured, praying

he didn’t want me naked.

He sat up as I approached, and looked at me appreciatively. He reminded me of a

great white lion, with his broad features and shaggy mane. His musk was strong that

night.

I did not wait for him to tell me to kneel between his legs and pleasure him. If I could

satisfy him with my mouth, perhaps he would not insist on undressing me, and would not

see the razor.

“Ahh…” he said as I encircled his member with my lips. “Very good. You have

learned well since coming to me.”

“Life is much easier when you’re happy, Gunnar,” I said before continuing.

“It is good you realize that,” he said. “Take off your clothing. I want you to carry my

juices in your belly tonight.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked at him in horror. “But…”

36

37

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked. “And why are you suddenly so eager to please me?”

He took my upper arms in his strong hands and picked me up as he stood, then walked

over to the corner where he kept a flexible wooden rod. “Remove your clothing.”

My mind raced while I unlaced my blouse. I moved slowly and tried to calm my

thoughts, but Gunnar’s return was swift. I felt the rod across my back before I could

think. I stumbled and nearly went down, gasping loudly.

“Quickly,” he said. “I don’t know what you are hiding, but I do not intend to be

manipulated.”

I turned to him. “Please, Captain, don’t,” I said just as the rod struck again. This time,